


Almost Something

by tyrellis



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrellis/pseuds/tyrellis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like this: David and Jack are the bestest of best friends, so Jack decides that when he is in sudden need of a fake romantic partner, David will suffice.</p>
<p>Except it starts differently for David: he's young and he catches Jack in the library now and again drawing for art class, and one day Jack fights off his bullies and becomes his friend, and thus begins the slow descent of David falling in love with him.</p>
<p>But Jack's his best friend. David can't exactly say no, can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it starts like this

**Author's Note:**

> do u ever look at a fandom's fic archive and think 'wow this is missing an essential component of fandom fic regulars' and then u think 'oh man fake dating au' and then u decide to write it even tho it's 4am and u need to sleep.
> 
> in others news i make mistakes frequently and often.
> 
> if u want to kno, i'm mostly basing the characters off the movie cast, bc it's easier to tell which character is which... idk abt jack, literally anyone is jack but i just can't picture any of the theatre boys w/ movie david bc...they're all like 5-8+ yrs older or something. anyway
> 
> oh also i'm basing this in scotland where i live bc it makes things a hundred times easier for me and also the us makes me ?? abt many things. so. free uni, free healthcare, u can rent a flat at 16 years old. sixth year would be senior year & i imagine it's easy to work ur way down from there.
> 
> anyways i hope u enjoy, if there r any problems or crit pls let me kno!! likewise if u think it's any good, cheers <3

To truly understand Jack Kelly, there are only four things one must know.

One: Jack never really grew out of the cowboy-loving phase of his childhood.

Two: though he'd rather people think of him as a tough bad boy, he's actually a romantic artist who loves all his friends fiercely.

Three: he has the biggest crush on his best friend, David Jacobs.

Four: he doesn't seem to realise this.

In fact, pretty much everyone knows the third fact except the two people involved. Jack appears to have come to the conclusion that it's entirely normal to want to spend the rest of his life with his best friend; and who wouldn't find David's eyes so utterly entrancing, given they are such an extraordinary shade of blue?

So entranced with these eyes, he only draws them five times a day.

No homo, though. They're just the best of brofriends.

It's not that Jack's ignoring his feelings. He's not scaring of liking boys, of liking anyone, and he's not all that great at bottling up his feelings. He paints (and every so often gets into fights) for a reason.

He just doesn't quite understand the nature of his feelings for David. It would almost be cute, if it didn't lead to dozens of bizarre displays that could confuse those who didn't know any better: see, Jack's also a fan of physical affection, so there's lots of arms going round shoulders and running hands through curly hair and offering David back massages on his off days.

To people like Spot, Crutchy, even Sarah, such interactions are normal, because they'll only ever feel platonically about Jack Kelly.

Except nothing David feels for Jack is remotely platonic. He's had a big old crush ever since he was rescued from bullies by Jack, and it's only gotten worse over all their years of friendship.

David knows he has a crush on Jack. David knows being gay is totally cool and Not An Issue he needs to panic over. David knows his parents are cool with it. David knows, hell, even Jack is cool with it.

He does not know if Jack is cool with David having a crush on him. So David keeps all his dumb feelings bottled tightly in his chest, feels his heart racing with the effort of keeping them in, feels them ambushing his ribs, desperate to be free.

Yeah, so maybe thinking about his crush on his best friend tends to lead to minor meltdowns. Sarah usually gets him through. She knows, of course, and wouldn't tell a soul.

David just keeps dragging around these heavy feelings inside of him, constantly checking his behaviour around Jack so the crush isn't obvious, catching his breath when he forgets to check, always trying to derail another anxiety attack.

And his brain never knows quite what to do with the Jack who calls him 'man' and 'bro' and slaps his back in greeting, and the Jack who murmurs 'Davey' like it's sacred and sits with him for hours, talking him down from whatever heights his mind has jumped to today.

This Jack pulls him close, tells him his eyes 'are like, super clear blue' and likens his freckles to stars, uses sharpie to draw constellations before David can slap his hand away.

Then Jack says, 'shit, bro,' and David quickly forces himself to remember that Jack acts like that with everyone.

But it's really beginning to get to his head.

\--

It's a beautiful day when things get worse: a June day, the first real day of summer. Everyone's back in town from their first year at university: a couple have been here all along, working, but most chose higher education. David's reunited with his family, and has various promises from Katherine that she'll try and visit, or arrange some kind of group holiday so they all see each other before uni starts up again.

David had returned home a few days earlier than the rest, to help around the house and check on his little brother, so all his things are already unpacked and he's already gone through the highs and lows of the year with the rest of his family. On this beautiful June day, he is free to visit his friends with his sister, at their flat ten minutes from their old school.

Jack, Spot, and Crutchy have been living together since the law would permit. None of their parents are around, so after enough years juggling jobs and researching rents and checking the kinds of benefits they fitted, they managed to get this place.

It's small, with a tiny bathroom and no separation of kitchen and dining area and living room, but the heating works and they all have their own room.

Spot's been here all year: he rented the other two rooms to quiet uni kids in this town, so Jack and Crutchy could return during the summer.

Tonight, there'll be a welcome home party, where the rest of the boys will pitch up and they'll exchange terrible stories about their year and show off embarrassing pictures, getting drunk on shit beer and being altogether again.

For now, Sarah slinks off to see Crutchy, and David finds Jack sitting on his unmade up bed, listening to _Wanted Dead or Alive_  on his old record player.

"The unpacking's going well, I see," David says softly, not wanting to startle Jack.

Jack waves a hand. "Stinks of vodka in here," he replies, quite truthfully. "'Quiet' my ass, the kid staying here was clearly an alcoholic."

"So you're tackling the problem by just...sitting here?"

Jack nods, then pats the bed for David to sit with him. "I'm waiting for my natural scent to permeate the air," he replies, and David laughs.

"Unpacking would probably make that happen much faster. Do you want me to help?"

Jack's smile tugs at something in David's heart.

"You say that like unpacking _isn't_  the sole reason you came by."

"Maybe I came to check on you."

"Davey," Jack says, wrapping a friendly arm round his shoulders and tugging out his phone, "the last time you checked on me was eleven-oh-eight this morning." He taps the phone screen, where the timestamp of David's last text is shown. "Which was _one hour_  ago."

David shrugs, Jack's arms heavy on his shoulders, and prays to the holy lord that his face isn't red.

"You didn't come by to make sure we ate lunch, did you?"

"You three have a terrible track record of eating lunch at the appropriate time."

"Nah, Davey, it's cool - Spot made sure there are tons of cereal bars in the cupboard."

"Oh my god, Jack, why are you guys so obsessed with cereal bars? I do not have to tell you again that three of them and a glass of milk do not count as lunch. If anything, that's more of a _breakfast_  dish."

"Just admit you're hiding five Innocent smoothies and clingfilmed sandwiches ready to be toasted in that big backpack of yours."

David is quite affronted. "I brought _eight_  smoothies," he corrects, which makes Jack grin. "Then everyone gets a choice and there are still three left over for you all. Also Sarah has the sandwiches. I actually have a checklist of all the things you should be unpacking, a timetable that factors in lunch, bathroom, and other snack breaks, and a plan for which bags we should tackle first."

"Ah," Jack says, pulling David in closer before letting go, "where would I be without you, Davey?"

"Still sitting on your bed, complaining about alcoholics, and living on cereals bars, milk, and beer," David replies, giving Jack an unimpressed look as he starts unzipping his backpack and handing the contents out to Jack. "Are we going to be listening to this all day?"

_Wanted Dead or Alive_  has just looped. Jack gets a defensive look on his face, and says, "This is a great song, Davey. You need to learn to appreciate it more."

"I can't appreciate something I hear literally any time you're allowed to pick the music."

This makes Jack laugh as he shuffles through everything David brought, ignoring David's request to change the music.

David doesn't really mind, though. This song will make him think of Jack till kingdom come, and in David's worse moments, it's actually helped a lot.

He'll never tell Jack that. For being best friends, David sure keeps a lot of secrets from him.

"Davey," Jack says seriously, nudging him as he examines the timetable. "Nowhere near enough snack breaks. Why did you put in a music change? We're not changing the music. Also are we honestly making dinner for everyone?"

"We're _ordering in_  food, Jack," David replies, rolling his eyes. "And everyone's chipping in. All _we're_  doing is making cookies. From four to half-six. Spot and Race want the kitchen until everyone else comes over." Jack scrunches his nose, pretending to wretch. David blushes, averting his gaze, before clarifying, "They want to make _cupcakes_ , Jack, not- not- Spot has a double bed for a reason!"

"Doesn't stop 'em," Jack mutters, dumping all the sheets back in David's hands. "Alright. Let's go."

David nods, and they spend the next couple hours in relative peace, discussing their summer plans and everything that happened at university. They went to the city, but David went to the main university whilst Jack went to the art school on the other side of town. There isn't actually much to catch up on; they saw each other every weekend anyway, and texted each other near constantly. Jack has a tendency to text whenever he's bored, and even if he'd doing artwork, he still manages to make time for a text to David every couple hours or so. David has entire play-by-plays of moments in Jack's life saved on his phone.

They're halfway through their second snack break, lounging on Jack's made-up bed, when Jack's phone rings - unusual - and he glances at the screen before heaving a heavy sigh.

A very specific sigh.

"Aunt?" David guesses.

Jack just flops back on the bed, placing his head perilously close to where David's butt is sitting itself, minding its own business, and groans, before taking the call.

"Hey," he says, sounding utterly resigned. "Yeah, no- I just got- no, I've been here- I'm _literally_  unpacking- sorry, _who_? I don't want to meet her!"

David stills, and glances down at Jack, whose eyes have shut. His brows are furrowed, his fists curled behind his head.

" _Listen_ ," he bites out. "I just got back a few hours ago. I'll come see yous all next week. _Don't_  invite her, Ann- no, I've not got a girlfriend, I just... I'm sure she's plenty pretty, but... Yes, Ann, I _do_  still like girls, cheers for asking..." He covers the mouthpiece to give another exasperated sigh. David winces sympathetically at him, and Jack's eyes lock on and he says, "You know what? I do have something to tell you. Yeah... No, I wouldn't be able to see her anyway. Yeah. I have a boyfriend." For a moment, time _freezes_  - David's brain is already going at a mile a minute and the pause between this statement and Jack's next words stretches into the cruelest chasm - then Jack adds, "You remember Davey, right? Here, say hi to him."

Then realisation hits him right in the face and-

"Jack what are you _doing_  Jack Kelly do not hand me that phone Jack what on _earth_ \- Hi, Ann. Yeah, uh. Haha. Hi." David glares furiously at Jack, who rolls off the bed onto an unpacked bag and continues eating his crisps.

"Hello Davey!" an old voice croons through the voice. "Aw, you and Jackie-boy have always been such great friends! University really does shake things up! Such a shame, though, my neighbour Elise's lass is such a stunner..."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure she is..." David chuckles nervously, eyes still burning holes through Jack's shaggy hair, pulse thrumming in his veins.

"Jacky was always a progressive boy, though! He sure loves making a statement. Well, I hope he's good to you. You best not hurt him too bad, Davey, I may be old but I was a great boxer back in the day!"

"Ha...ha..." David's hands are beginning to shake a little. He has maybe two minutes to calm down before it gets worse. "Yeah, no, um. I'd never hurt Jack. But it's nice that you're looking out for him...?"

"What a scoundrel he is, not telling me this! Hand him the phone back, will you, love?"

"Sure thanks bye!" David squeaks out, and hurls the phone at the back of Jack's head.

" _Davey_!" he yells, then grabs it and replies, "I know, it's mental. Yup, I'll see you soon. Thanks for checking in. Yeah. All right. Cheers."

Jack throws the phone back at him.

" _Boyfriend_?!" David explodes, as if his heart isn't in his throat. "What are you _doing_ , Jack Kelly? What was that about? Literally any other excuse- and you chose _boyfriend_? And _me_?!"

"You were right there!" Jack counters, rolling onto his back so he can look up at him. "Look, just- for the summer, all right? She's always on my back about meeting girls and I am _so tired_  of it, you don't even have to do much! Just say I'm your boyfriend, we'll take cute pics and I'll put them on insta, we hold hands every now and then. What's so bad about that?"

_So many things_ , David thinks, face burning. _This will be the death of me_.

" _Jack_."

But Jack just pouts and bats his lashes, reaching up to flick David's hand. It's a tiny little gesture, barely noticeable. Jack uses it whenever he's worried.

David can feel himself giving in to Jack's ridiculous demands, as so often he does. Pretending to have a boyfriend _is_  a good idea for Jack, if inconvenient and potentially life-ruining for David.

" _Please_ , Dave? Just the summer. We'll tell everyone we're boyfriends, then we break up back at uni. Easy."

"Wait," David says. " _Everyone_?"

"You know what Ann's like! She'll call the landline and wind up getting Spot and start asking all about us! And getting Spot to pretend for us would cost me a million favours, Davey, I don't have that in me."

" _Oh, my god_ ," David groans. "Okay, fine, _fine_. Only because my parents are still weird."

"Uh oh. Which way, this time?"

"It's all, 'Davey, surely if you were _proud_  of being gay you'd have a boyfriend already? You obviously are harbouring some inner shame about the way you were made!'" He shakes his head. "But _only_  to stop them. They'll probably invite you over for dinner and thank you for taking pity on my shamefully gay soul."

"Good, your family always makes the best food."

David sighs, and curls up on Jack's bed, trying to ignore the fact that he's practically surrounded by Jack and his scent right now. "Pass me the paper. We're going to need a story."

"A story?"

"You can't run a convincing article without _facts_ , Jack. We need facts. A script, if you want. How we got together, our first date, why we didn't tell everyone..."

"Tell 'em we got together today!"

"And how would that work?"

Jack stares hard at him for a moment, then drops his head back and groans. "I don't _want_  to."

"You're the one who volunteered me as your fake boyfriend. We do this the proper way or not at all."

David's taking deeper breaths now. His hands are mostly steady. His heartbeat isn't nearly as quick anymore, though it tends to skip a beat every so often in Jack's presence anyway.

Writing down facts helps David calm down, actually. Maybe it's silly, but it's his way of taking control of the situation. If there are facts, even constructed ones, then there are still rules, something he can follow. This doesn't have to be a big deal. He's had this...idiot crush for years. He can still keep a handle on it whilst pretending to be Jack's boyfriend.

Even though he wants to be his real one.

He emblazons his fresh sheet of paper with _Fake Boyfriends_  and starts bullet-pointing.

"Okay, Jack. Why'd we get together?"

"I'm so hot that you couldn't resist."

"No."

"...You're so hot, and _I_  couldn't resist?"

"Common knowledge. No."

"Uh... Okay, we're best friends and we fell in love with each other over the years but only now have the stars aligned."

"...Okay. When did this happen?"

"Before finals."

"Why?"

"Because then we were too busy working to focus on each other and to tell everyone else about us!" Jack beams up at him like a proud little puppy.

David notes the facts down on his sheet of paper, and the two of them bounce ideas off each other for another hour, perfecting their story and pausing every few minutes for Jack to do some impromptu solos to the music, before it's time to make cookies.

David's about to open the door, when Jack grabs his shoulder and hisses, "Wait. What if Spot and Crutchy are out there? What do boyfriends do?"

David blinks at him. "Act...like boyfriends?"

Jack blinks back.

"Well...if we're about to tell them we're together...we're nervous, right?" David suggests, as if this might hide the fact that he himself is very, very nervous. Jack's nodding slowly.

"I'm gonna hold your hand," he decides. And proceeds to do so. David's heart does all the flippy skippy stuff he's been dealing with the past few years, except this time it's worse, because Jack's hand is warm, a little rough, callouses from his various jobs and from painting. He's holding on pretty tight, so David knows he must be nervous, too.

David's scared his palms are getting sweaty, but he squeezes Jack's hand, quickly, before he opens the door into the little hallway, and they go to the main area. Jack's so warm, so close. Side-by-side, which is really how they've been for years.

It feels different.

But David knows it's not.

Spot, Crutchy, and Sarah are all in the open area, in fact - Spot's French-braiding Sarah's hair, and her and Crutchy are battling each other on Mario Kart, and for a moment David can't imagine saying a word, can't imagine the three of them turning round and seeing him and Jack like this, and knowing it's fake-

Worse - not knowing it's fake, believing it, forcing them to continue this charade- David's heart feels like it might burst because he doesn't _want_  it to be a charade, he wants this really and truly, and that is by far the worst part.

"Davey," Jack murmurs, so quietly, and squeezes his hand back. "Ey, you three. We figured we's got something to tell yous."

"We already know Sarah and Davey brought eight Innocent smoothies, Jack," Crutchy replies, his slight frown doing little to conceal the immense rage in his eyes as he falls off rainbow road. "The excitement has passed."

Jack rolls his eyes.

"It's not that," David interjects quietly, too quickly, willing himself to keep his eyes off the ground.

At his voice, Sarah turns round. She takes in the scene, eyes honing expertly on the held hands, and says, "About time."

_What?_

Jack cocks his head.

Spot and Crutchy look round, and Spot snorts loudly.

"Hey! Race won the bet!" Crutchy exclaims. "I'm glad you finally decided you could tell us."

"Um..."

"Not like we didn't all know already," Spot mutters. He straightens a little, though, and narrows his eyes at David. "Ey, Davey. You be good to him."

The lethal flash in Spot's eyes inspire some genuine fear in David.

"Hey, Jack," Sarah says sweetly. "You better be good to my baby brother."

Her smile is perfect and pristine, but Jack's eyes go wide and he takes a tiny step back.

"You, uh, ain't gotta worry about that," he stammers. "Davey's all good with me."

"Hmm." She goes back to devastating Crutchy and NPCs on rainbow road.

"We'll, um. Just be making cookies," David adds on.

"Just be quiet," Spot orders, and Jack pulls David over to the kitchen area. Under the guise of searching for ingredients in the lower cupboards, he and Jack duck down so they can whisper without being heard.

" _About time_?" David hisses.

"They bet on us!"

"I think Spot could have me killed if we mess up."

"Sarah would kill me with her _bare hands_  if we mess this up."

David stares the ground, then adds, " _Finally decided to tell them_? Did they think-? What does that _mean_?"

But David knows what it means.

Because there are those moments. When Jack says his nickname and compliments his eyes and makes doodles out of David's freckles. Dozens and dozens of them, thrown like a handful of glitter on the wet canvas of their friendship. They're burnt so brightly into David's memory, equal parts beautiful and terrible. Though their frequency should've made them commonplace, David was always startled by how soft Jack could reveal himself as, how caring and curious he could be.

David had always assumed he was maybe seeing things, hearing things. That he was over-analysing simple interactions between good friends, and that he was wearing rose-tinted glasses, that he was projecting his own feelings and desires onto Jack...

But maybe David wasn't always overthinking those moments. Maybe David wasn't being illogical, irrational, too hopeful. Maybe...others saw it too.

Felt it, too. Felt that, sometimes...there were times. When David and Jack were _almost_  something. Something more, something tangible.

Something real.

Maybe it wasn't all in David's head.

He'd been so scared that it was.

Something flicks his hand.

"Davey."

And again.

"Davey, it's alright."

And that's when he realises his breaths are coming out in little gasps, and the hand Jack isn't clutching is shaking, and his heart beats so fast he thinks it might tear up his chest.

"O-oh," David mumbles, sounding distanced from himself. "Sorry. I didn't mean- I wasn't- um..."

"It's okay," Jack assures him, so close to him. They're still crouching. "I know it's a little overwhelming. But this is a good thing, right? They'll all believe it easier, won't they?"

"Yeah..." David agrees carefully, still a little at loss, trying to remember to breathe evenly. "Yes, it'll be more convincing. Sorry, I just...got lost in thought..."

"Hey," Jack says, smiling. "You know I don't mind. I just worry, tha's all."

His eyes are so sincere, and his hand is so present in David's, and everything could be so, _so_  real-

"Sorry," he says again.

"Don't be."

Jack takes out a mixing bowl from the open cupboard, and tugs him up. Sarah glances over, but David assumes she sees his red cheeks and the slight sheen on his face and understands.

David waits till his hands stop shaking before he helps Jack out with the recipe.

\--

Telling _everyone_  is a lot harder than telling just Spot, Crutchy, and Sarah. Which sort of makes sense, and sort of doesn't. Considering the latter three are perhaps some of the people closest to both Jack and David.

But it is different when you've got a room packed with supposed 'young adults' battling out who gets which rice and why didn't they order more sweet and sour chicken and who almost spilt the Coke, _idiots_?

David isn't a fan of noise either, but he's learnt over the years the things that keep him fairly upbeat despite being surrounded by overactive young boys. Him and Jack are squashed onto the only armchair, which actually isn't unusual, except that now Sarah and Crutchy and Spot keep giving them looks. No one else notices - they're all too busy being overjoyed at seeing each other again, at yelling at each other, complaining to each other, stealing food from each other. Spot and Race are in the kitchen, fussing over their cupcakes (which actually look close to appealing, this time), and Sarah's being treated like a goddess in the corner, where Romeo and Bumlets are lavishing their attention (and food) on her and her perfectly-done nails.

Bumlets, David suspects, is more there for the nails than for Sarah's affections.

Jack and David are having a very whispered conversation as they eat the food they ordered.

"How are we gonna do this?" Jack's asking.

"Maybe you should've _thought_  about that before you pulled us into this mess!" David hisses, grabbing a box of chicken fried rice and offering it angrily to Jack.

Jack finds an unused plastic spoon and has a few mouthfuls. After some thoughtful chewing, he says, "Fair point." Then he keeps eating.

David looks around for his own spoon, which seems to have disappeared, and Jack simply hands over the one he's been slobbering all over.

It's another Moment. Or is it? Would Jack do this for someone else? Is Jack even thinking about what he's doing, or is he too frustrated about his own problem to think about it?

Jack's still holding the spoon.

"You're hungry, right?" Jack says eventually, shaking the spoon a little in David's direction. David nods, and Jack says, "So eat! You think better when you've eaten."

David takes the spoon because Jack's words are the kind that David will think about at night.

As he snacks on the rice, he sneaks a glance to Sarah, who evidently watched the whole interaction from where she's instructing Bumlets on how to paint his nails perfectly.

David tears his eyes away, humiliated, before saying, "It's harder to say it when there's so many of us."

"I know. I _know_. We'll have to... Shit, should we wait until Kath calls? I don't remember if she said she would or not."

They'd been texting whilst they were in the kitchen. "She said she'd call round eight. I mean, if we tell everyone when she calls, we'd have to wait until she gets through talking about everything with everyone..."

Jack waves a hand. "Naw, if I say we've something important to say they'll gie us a mo. It's just... Christ, it's not even real, but still."

David frowns and nods, passing the rice back so Jack can focus on something whilst David thinks. "I mean... I mean, _I'm_  nervous too, but- but I always am... Let's just wait till she calls and then say it so we get it out of the way. Okay?"

Jack mutters something, indistinguishable from the food he's cramming in his mouth.

"Okay," David says. "But we'll just- um... You'll...say it, won't you? I don't think I could-"

Jack hands the food back over. "Course, Davey. I've no problem with that."

"Thanks," David breathes out, and doesn't even think about it when he starts using Jack's spoon to finish off the rice. Jack's already gearing up for a half-empty carton of soup.

David shifts a little so he can fetch his phone from his pocket, wondering when him and Jack being so close together became so _normal_. To anyone who didn't know better, he and Jack would certainly look like a couple...and David had thought everyone _knew_ better. But instead they...thought two of them were secretly together? And everyone just...got used to it? Figured it was how he and Jack just were? How didn't David notice it? Or maybe he's been so focused on not projecting his feelings on Jack that he's missed it entirely?

As it is, he's half on Jack's lap, and Jack's arm is round the back of the chair, more for comfort than anything, and there's just enough room for David to bring his knees to his chest, feet tucked under Jack's legs. This kind of touch has become normal, yet somehow David missed the intimacy of it - now that he and Jack are supposed to be a _thing_ , he realises that maybe, in fact, he and Jack have been acting like it for a while.

Acting like it doesn't really mean anything. Jack's like this with everyone.

But David isn't. It's David who's throwing his boundaries wide open for Jack, and he wonders what is says about him that he didn't even notice.

_Christ_. This is what Jack does to him. And this is why... _this_  is definitely a bad, bad idea.

So he stares at his phone and absentmindedly takes the soup from Jack when it's offered. He has a couple texts from Kath, something from Les about wanting to see all the boys again, too, his little calendar dotted with events for the next few weeks.

It's already almost eight. David can feel his heart getting just a little heavier in his chest. He tries to distract himself, sends off a couple replies, double checks with Kath that she'll be calling soon, goes through his emails and scrolls through facebook, just for something to do. Even though he's been missing his friends, and being altogether like this, while he was at university, it's bizarrely overwhelming, and he finds himself trying, just for a moment, to block them all out.

He wonders if this makes him a bad friend, wonders if they only keep him around because Jack seems to like him, which David thinks doesn't make much sense, either.

His text tone saves him from pondering this further, and probably getting a little too anxious. It's from Kath, saying _hope ur all ready!! :)xx_ , so David sends her a thumbs up emoji and announces, "Kath should be calling soon."

A couple of the boys nods, another few give off a _well duh it's almost eight_  kind of look, and Sarah, in her corner, claps twice. Almost immediately, Jack's laptop, placed precariously on the end table of the armchair, lights up with a call.

"Hey, good timing," Jack says, ruffling his hair briefly before taking the call, and the screen is filled with Kath, evidently lounging on her bed at home.

"Hello boys!" she says, whilst Jack winks, David waves, and then they turn the laptop round to everyone else can see her.

"Hey Kath!" comes the general reply. "How you doing, Kathy?" asks Mush, who's squashed between Kid Blink and Race, inspecting the questionable cupcakes the latter and Spot have presented.

"Terrifically," she replies. "Except that I'm all alone, _confined_  to this house, when I should be staying with the Jacobs and hanging out with my girlfriend. _Hey_ , Sarah!"

"Oh man," Romeo mutters, and Sarah swats his arm.

"Hey, Kathy," she replies. "You should sneak out, get a train. We can have the spare room made up in no time."

"Don't I wish I _could_ ," Katherine sighs. "Father has CCTV, _and_  someone watching all exit points of my room. The security team is on all exits of the house, _and_  of the estate, so I'm...stuck here."

"But you're asking about a holiday, right?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, I'm working on it. Slow and steady business. I'm working on convincing Father's PA. If I get her, I can get to him."

" _Brilliant_ ," Jack says.

"Then you can get to me!" Sarah chimes in, and David rolls his eyes. She catches it, though, and give him some very pointedly raised eyebrows. David resists the urge to burrow into Jack's neck, and instead nudges him sharply in the waist.

" _Davey_ ," Jack hisses as everyone else carries on with Katherine, who's laughing brightly on-screen.

" _Do_ it!" David replies quietly. "Before- just- get it done with already!"

"Okay, okay, let me think about it a second!"

"There's nothing to think about! Just tell her!"

"Tell me what?" comes Katherine's voice from the laptop. Jack and David both freeze and stare at each other. The room's gone quiet, mostly because everyone else didn't hear what was said and therefore don't know what Katherine was referring to. "Turn me round, Jack Kelly, and tell me what it is."

Jack turns the laptop round, and they're faced again with Katherine, sitting straight with her arms crossed. She raises an eyebrow.

"We just... Well." Jack stops, glancing around before looking back to David, a little desperately. David responds by nudging him again, only to hide the fact that his face is slowly going red. "We, er... That is- Davey and I... We wanted to tell you _all_ , that, uh...we..." David nudges his again, a little harder. "We're together!"

Sarah's pretending that she's not gutting herself laughing in the corner. Spot and Race are wrapped up together, guffawing, and Katherine looks at the two of them for a moment, before one tiny snicker escapes her lips.

"...I know?" she replies, as the boys all start glancing at each other and grinning. "It's okay, you two, no need to be nervous! We were _wondering_  why you weren't telling any of us, you know. I think it's quite clear that none of us are homophobic. Honestly, Sarah was getting worried."

David's gaze snaps from Katherine to Sarah, who shrugs helplessly, still chortling to herself.

Jack glances at him, then says, "You...know?"

"Yeah, sure," she says. "Everyone kind of figured it out, right?"

Behind her, their friends all nod and shrug, some still laughing, others eyeing Jack's confusion with concern.

"For how long have you, uh, known?"

Katherine shrugs onscreen. "I mean, since I met you both, I thought you were always together. It's kind of why I was so weirded out when you tried to hit on me."

David's heart is seizing up in his chest, but he at the same time he feels a little numb - all he can do is look at whoever's speaking, uncomprehending.

"Hey," Mush says. "I've known since like, fifth year."

Spot shrugs. "You're shit at hiding when you've got a crush, Jacky-boy."

"You were always so cute together," offers Kid Blink.

"Not as cute as me and Kath, of course," Sarah interjects serenely.

"You and _Kath_?" Romeo finally erupts.

Sarah shrugs, and Kath cocks her head on screen. Jack turns her back round. "Sorry, Romeo, but Davey introduced me to her. She's a real cutie, don't you think?"

Romeo grudgingly glances at the screen and mutters, "...Yeah. Hi, Katherine. I'm Romeo."

"Hey Romeo," Kath replies, and then Race starts introducing Spot and suddenly everyone who hasn't met Katherine clamours to greet her properly.

"Davey," Jack whispers when the laptop's been taking from him. David's frozen, he can't think past _they already knew?_  and _they thought we were cute_  and _they thought Jack fancied me?_

And David had thought he'd be the weak link. Because he _does_  have a crush, and he can never quite tell if it's showing or not. He's worked so hard to hide it- but they thought _Jack_ \- but Mush thought they were together since _fifth year_ \- but they're not even _together_ -

" _Davey_ ," Jack croons, like he does sometimes when David's not listening to him. "You alright?"

David shakes his head slowly, carefully. Jack moves just a little, brings him arm down to instead wrap round David's shoulders, his left hand taking David's so carefully.

They'd discussed this, back when David was bullet-pointing - they were already fairly physically affectionate already, so it wouldn't be so strange to up the ante, so to speak.

And even though it should be fake, it doesn't _feel_  that way. It feels natural.

Regardless, he's glad Jack's holding on to him. David grips his hand back, though, only because he knows it's what's keeping him grounded, from getting lost in these pervasive thoughts.

"What is it?" Jack asks softly.

"There- there wasn't anything to _know_ ," David says, thinking it must be a lie though if _he_  liked Jack. "But they- what does it _mean_ , Jack?"

Jack shrugs. "I don't know, man. I reckon they're just saying that 'cause we've been best friends for so long, right?"

David tilts his head, then holds his free hand out into the space between them, watches it tremble as he examines the back of it, then turns it over to study his palm.

"It's a good thing, really. It'll make everything way more believable. Then I'll get Ann and all those girls off my ass and you can get your family to take you seriously, right?" Jack looks at him carefully, his eyes a dark, soft brown that are too easy to fall into.

"Right," David mumbles. "Right... It just seems...pretending for everyone is...excessive."

"Well," Jack says, "at least no one will bug either of us about why we're not dating, right? 'Cause we're dating _each other_. Ann'll be super pleased I'm taking someone out at long last, and she has all those summer barbeques, so you'll get invited. I...don't know if that's actually a good thing."

"I remember she has very good ice cream."

" _True_. And I can come round yours for dinner all the time! It'll be great. D'ya think your maw will make me hot chocolate like she used to?"

"She doesn't even do that for _me_ , Jack."

"Yeah, but I'm cute."

"Maybe if you paint her something."

"Hmm, maybe I should in case they get mad at me for like...stealing their cute little son away from them."

David rolls his eyes. "You're hardly _stealing_  me. And wow, Jack, I didn't realise you were into Les, honestly that's a little creepy...Maybe we should break this off..."

Jack hits David's knee with their held hands and starts laughing like David is a comedic genius. "Shut _up_ , Davey, you know what I mean!"

"Do I?" David asks, grinning in earnest now whilst still trying to appear confused. "I don't know, who else could 'cute little son' refer to? Sarah's established her gender to us multiple times."

"You're right, I changed my mind. Maybe your parents will be worried I'm stealing away their annoying smartass son who could never _possibly_  be cute, not even if he _tried_."

"Wow, Jack, I'm hurt, but I don't think my parents will care if I'm not aesthetically-pleasing or not."

"Aesthetically- shut _up_ , Davey, and also I'd be concerned if I had two bonnie-lookin' kids and then... Well."

"I suppose we can't all have your stunning good looks, then," David says, and sighs. "Tragic. My life is ruined. How will I ever cope?"

"Well, that's why you've got _me_ , Davey. I'm a shining light in the darkness. You can always run into my arms when life gets you down."

"My hero," David drawls, tilting his head back so Jack can fully appreciate his unimpressed look.

Jack just presents his favourite shit-eating grin. "You _love_  it."

This incurs a groan not only from David, but also half the room, who have apparently stopped chattering excitedly to Katherine and are instead watching the two of them.

" _Gay_ ," Race calls out to them, oblivious to the fact that he and Spot are squashed so close together that it's actually difficult to distinguish which body parts belong to whom.

Katherine is judging them from that laptop screen, David can just tell, even if he refuses to look at it.

Jack disentangles their hands, and leans over to grab a plate from the table, holding tight onto David in case he goes too far. "Cookies?" Jack offers, grabbing two for him and David before their friends pounce.

"Thanks," David mutters, then takes the proffered cookie and starts digging in immediately, because his and Jack's combined culinary experience surprisingly culminates in something not just edible, but actually quite tasty.

"At least the worst part is over?" Jack says.

"I mean... I don't think so," David replies, side-eyeing him. "But okay."

Jack rolls his eyes and starts eating, too.

\--

David, of course, is right. Immediately after he and Sarah leave the flat at some ridiculous hour in the morning, she latches onto his arm and says, " _Davey_. How could you not tell me anything?"

She's trying to sound like the nosy big sister, but David knows she's actually a little hurt. They share practically everything - Sarah texted him after meeting Katherine, for instance, that she had the biggest crush on her. She's always known he's had a crush on Jack, even if he never really said it, just got too happy when Jack was around and too sad when he wasn't. Sarah had even asked, a couple times, and David had adamantly replied that _no_ , nothing happened or will happen between them.

But he and Jack obviously covered this. "We only got together before finals," he lies. "And after that I was too busy revising, then I was packing, and I- we figured it would be easier to just...tell everyone together."

Sarah gives him a look and _hmm_ s. "Just before finals, then?"

"Yeah," David replies, a little defensively. "I know what you all seem to think, but- nothing really happened till then."

"Weird," she says. "Mush really was certain... I guess it doesn't matter. Not even a text though?"

This one isn't a lie. "I banned myself from all social media during exam period."

" _Dave_ , it's your first year! You should chill out a little more. Fine, fine, you didn't tell your big sister you had a boyfriend, whatever. How are you gonna tell Les?"

David blinks. "Oh. I don't know."

Sarah laughs, curling her arm through his as they wander through the dark streets to their own home. They don't live far from Jack - at least, not far enough to warrant catching a bus or train - but it's still a good half hour walk, and it may be summer but it's still freezing at night. David, of course, brought a jumper along.

Sarah's wearing a thin cardigan, so he lets her hold onto him.

"I think he'll be pleased. His brother and his _idol_."

David scoffs. "Les is nowhere near as crazy about Jack as he was when we first met him, you know."

"He still has a little hero complex about him." She shrugs. "It's cute. I think he'll think it's cute."

"Yeah, but he's like, hardly eleven. You know what kids are like at that age. What if he thinks..."

"We'll _talk_  to him, Davey. Like adults. Mama and Papa wouldn't let that attitude in around the house, either."

David sighs. "Yeah, I guess."

Sarah just grips his arm tighter and shakes her head. "This is a good day, David! You should be celebrating!" She pulls them in a tight circle, almost tripping over her own feet.

"You've had a bit much wine, tonight, I think."

"And as usual, you've had not _nearly_  enough. Sticking to cider? Really?"

"It tastes _good_."

"Not a decent defence." She sighs wistfully. "Lovely to see Katherine, though. I'm so sad about her being locked away like that, just because her father is some stupid homophobic son of a-"

" _Sarah_ ," David says. "What did we say about gendered slurs?"

Sarah sighs. "That they're totally bullshit and perpetuate sexist stereotypes that harm women. Sorry. I'm just upset. I really wanted her to come down here."

"I know," David says. "I miss her, too."

Sarah's arm slips and she takes his hand, swinging them as they turn a corner and venture a little more into residential area. "You have Jack, though. You two are really cute."

David's glad for the dark - it hides the way his face is quickly reddening. "Uh, thanks, Saz."

"I _mean_  it. You two are always together, ever since he first found you. Gosh, seeing one of you without the other was always a shock. You look so lost without each other, sometimes. I swear, I was talking to Jack once, back when we were all still at school, he was telling me this story about something and you'd wandered off with Crutchy, and then he forgot the next part of the story and he got _so_  confused when you weren't by his side to tell him what is was." She smiles, tilting her head back to look into the sky. It's cloudy, as usual, but thin enough that you can make out the full moon behind it. "I always thought that was the ideal. Being unable to function without the other..."

"That's co-dependency," he says, a little uncomfortable. "That's unhealthy."

"No, not like that... Just...being so used to each other. Being able to work around each other. You...fill in each other's gaps, you know?"

David frowns. He can't think of anything in particular he has to offer Jack apart from some facts anyone could read from a book and a whole ton of useless anxiety.

Sarah tugs at his hand. "Don't you think so?" she asks. "You're all book-smarts and he's all street-smarts, and you're a nerd and he's an artist, you understand science and he understands ten different types of painting. He has the charisma, you have the intelligence. You're like a proper power couple."

David splutters, "Power couple? _Sarah_ -"

"It's true! But it's even more complex than that. We both know Jack's academically clever too, you know? And you just _love_  writing." Sarah shrugs. "I don't know. It seems so good, that's all."

David isn't very comfortable with where this conversation is going, mostly because he kind of agrees. Instead, he suggests, "But you have Katherine." _Properly_  has Katherine, he refrains from saying.

"Yeah," Sarah sighs. "I'm lucky, huh?"

David holds her hand a little tighter.

"We both are."

And they really are. Their family isn't homophobic, their school isn't too bad, and David's friends are loyal enough to fight off anyone who says a bad word about any of them. He and Sarah have been brought up well with their little brother in a fairly middle-class environment. David is best friends with Jack Kelly, who's the kind of boy that everyone knows, and looks up to, and is obviously going to be the male School Captain in sixth year. (He was, of course.)

Jack is clever and artistic and flirty and _so_  charming, but also solid and loyal and willing to do anything to protect his friends. David loves him. David _really_  loves him.

Sometimes David thinks he isn't so lucky, though - because Jack clearly doesn't _really_  love him back.

David can't often admit to himself what he'd give up to have Jack's real love, safe and secure and all for him. It's really quite pathetic.

Still. He thinks it'd be worth it.


	2. it goes a little differently for jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is the Worst Friend in the World™, but he'll be damned if he doesn't do his best to try and help Davey somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u believe i updated this in a week... i actually can't?? granted it's only freshers week so... i've done no actual uni work yet :/
> 
> anyway. some jack spot and crutchy times ahead of us. some anxiety?? some cute jacobs fam?? some jack thinking he's a shit person? :) also, smooches
> 
> enjoy, or like, don't. leave a comment maybe ;)

After everyone leaves, Jack's left lounging in the main room with Spot and Crutchie, who've ignored the dirty dishes and empty fast food cartons that litter their living area, and have instead resumed their previous Mario Kart match, even though Sarah isn't here anymore.

This past day has been _bizarre_. It started ordinary enough - he'd gotten in late from uni last night and fallen asleep with his bed still unmade, and slept till the sun started shining through his window, too early for his tastes. He'd turned around and checked his phone, where he found half a dozen welcome back/can't-wait-to-punch-you texts from his friends, a hundred thousand new messages on his group chats, and a couple of texts from David, making sure he was in okay and that he was going to unpack and also that David was pretty sure everyone was coming over in the evening.

Jack had verified this with Spot and Crutchie, then replied that all was well and good and that he expected Davey over soon. Then he'd showered, changed, and had a few cereal bars before returning to his room and surveying the luggage on his floor. Not many bags, he thought, mostly because he doesn't have many things. A duffle bag of clothes. A carry-on stuffed with books and his laptop and toiletries. A final bag comprising whatever was still in his room when he'd woken that morning.

Not much to unpack, really.

So he'd gotten comfy on his bed and played Candy Crush until David came over. What proceeded to happen over the next few hours has yet to quite sink in. He'd been expecting Ann to call, so why he hadn't thought up a good excuse to stop her nagging by then is beyond him - instead, he literally threw Davey under the bus and more or less forced him to pretend to be Jack's boyfriend. And Jack knows it is so, so shitty of him to have done that, because David isn't super open about his sexuality, doesn't like people knowing if he hadn't told them himself and Jack's pretty sure Ann had no idea if Dave was gay or not.

Not only that, of course. Davey's family were...a little resistant when Dave first came out. It was a bad night, a really bad night in fifth year that resulted in David coming over and staying the night with him, but it was resolved in a week or so. His parents were ignorant, but Sarah sorted them out, Jack thinks. At any rate, they've read up a lot and do their best to support David, but he's never had a boyfriend before and they can be a little dodgy about it all. So now Jack's forcing him to pretend he has a boyfriend to his _family_ , too, and Davey acted like it was a good thing, but David also tends to dismiss his own troubles when helping others.

Thirdly. David gets stressed out quickly and easily. Jack used to think that was just the type of person he was, except then it got to fifth year, notorious for its hard work, and he'd had some kind of mental breakdown and started seeing doctors and therapists and the support staff at school. He told Jack eventually, during the April holidays the night before he and his family were to go skiing. He'd come over for a proper goodbye for the ten days he'd be gone, and Jack hadn't asked, just expressed some concern, but David had stopped and taken a breath and explained it to him, bit by bit.

Anxiety, he'd said, but not like how everyone else gets nervous about things. It was something in his brain, all about chemicals, things Jack had no proper knowledge of. And it make him freak out even if it was a small thing and it made him over think and get scared easily and if it got really bad he'd get a _panic attack_ , which had basically happened during school when they were receiving a lecture on the importance (and unimportance) of Highers.

David had pulled out this sheet of paper from his backpack, and showed Jack what it all was. _The Vicious Cycle of Panic_  it was titled, with a wee diagram that Dave talked through, and when Jack asked why he was showing him it David replied that he needed someone to look out for him, in case he didn't notice the warning signs.

He'd looked away, cheeks burning red, and Jack realised he was embarrassed. Ashamed. But before Jack had gotten a word in, Davey said that there were a bunch of things that managed to calm him down, or distract him from his own thoughts. And that he was telling Jack all this because he _was_  one of those things.

So of course after they said their goodbyes, Jack read through everything he could find online, going through NHS pages and psychiatry sites and forums of people expressing similar feelings. _It's like that feeling when you miss a step, except all the time_ , someone had written, and so Jack had sworn to do his best to help David.

But this isn't helping. Springing something like this on him? Jack didn't even ask. Jack didn't even know he was going to say it until he saw David watching him with a frown and then Jack had said it. David had gotten so close to a panic attack _twice_  today, in the span of only a few hours. The look on his face every time someone said they already knew he and Jack were together was awful. The way he'd squeezed Jack's hand, had leaned in to every touch, god, he must've been so scared. God. Jack really fucked up, this time.

He really shouldn't have done this to Davey. David doesn't deserve this shit, he deserves a best friend who'd take the best care of him and make sure he was doing okay and give him space when he wanted it and Jack-

Somehow, Jack never gets it right.

"Yo, Jacky-boy," Spot says, sprawled on the sofa now that Crutchy's getting snacks from the kitchen. "You never told us 'bout you 'n' Davey."

Jack shrugs, recalling that page of facts Davey had written up when they were supposed to be unpacking. "Yeah, well, we didn't get together till before finals."

Spot laughs, just once, whilst Crutchy says, "Aw, Jack," from the kitchen.

"We didn't! I dunno where you got that idea from."

Crutchy just says, "Aw, _Jack_ ," as Spot cackles.

"C'mon," Spot says, after collecting himself a little. "You guys acted more like a couple than me 'n' Race during school. Shit, we all put you 'n' Davey down as cutest couple for the yearbook."

Jack frowns. "Yeah, but you an' Race won?"

"Yeah, Race made a lot of bets. Nothin' new."

Jack slumps further in the armchair, colder now that David isn't all curled up with him. Which is...rarely. In fact...if Jack had to make an educated guess, he would say that he and David share this armchair literally every time David comes over. Jack cannot think of a time they didn't.

...Maybe he can see where their friends are coming from.

Still, he says, "We've been best friends all our lives - an' you know what I'm like."

"Aye," says Spot, "but we know what Davey ain't - which is like _you_. He cannae stand it when one of us gets too close - but he lets you play with his hair 'n' massage his back 'n' at school, he'd let you drag him around with his tie. Face it, Jacky - you two've always been a couple."

"Crutchy," Jack says, turning to him for support, but Crutchy just bustles over with a giant bottle of diet coke and some crisps for them all.

"He's right, Jack," Crutchy says, and Jack sighs. "Speaking as your former bestest best friend, you and Davey have always been...more than bestest best friends."

"Come _on_ ," Jack says.

"You guys held hands all the time, all of your sketchbooks were _full_  of drawings of him, you literally never stopped talking about how cool or smart or funny he was when he wasn't around, also you told him he had pretty eyes, like, every day," Crutchy elaborates, hitting Spot's legs with his crutch until Spot lets him onto the couch.

Jack tilts his head and considers this. "I just wanted him to know I appreciated his eyes, and the hard work his ma and pa put into creating them."

" _Christ_ , Jack."

"Just admit you've been head over heels for him ever since you got rid of those bullies for him," is Crutchy's advice before he turns back to the game.

So Jack does think about this. It's no secret that he's likes to be pretty physical with his friends - surely it's normal if he wants to do that even more with his bestest best friend. And Davey never rebuffed all the held hands and lingering arms-over-shoulders and squeezing into the same seat, which just affirms their status as the bestest of best friends. And Davey's eyes _are_  pretty, it's a fact of nature, so what if Jack told him all the time? It's not like he'd ever tell himself. Davey'd never say anything good about himself, really, so Jack did it for him.

"Whatever," he says. "Maybe we did act a bit like a couple, though," he amends, because objectively speaking he must admit he's never seen any other best friends behave the way he and Davey do together, and in fact such behaviour is usually reserved only for couples.

"Yeah," Spot scoffs. " _Maybe_."

Jack figures this is a good time to ignore Spot and instead text Davey to make sure he and Sarah got home alright. This flat isn't really in a great area, and the Jacobs do live in a fairly decent area, but it's a bit of a trek, and it's late and dark and they're both bonnie as hell and pretty evidently well-off, so Jack just worries.

_hey bb_ , he decides is a good way to start,  _hope my hawt bf and his cute sis got home ok :* xxxxxxx_

Davey replies quickly, which means he's home and alright: _why are you like this_

Jack grins. _i just wanna make sure my bae is safe and sound!!! <3333 :*** xxxxxxxx_

_stop_

_i only stop for smooches_

_s t o p_

_s m o o c h e s_

_ok fine goodnight jack xxxxxxxx_

And then, almost immediately: _when are you coming round next because i need to tell les and he'll hear it better from you_

_obvs coming round tomoz for sunday roast babez xxxxxx_

_k thanks see you then xxxxxxxx_

_yas smooches <333 xxxxxxxxxx_

Then Davey just sends him the sigh emoji and another row of kisses, so Jack screenshots the messages and curls up on the armchair.

"Textin' Davey?" Spot asks. "They get home alright?"

And Spot thinks he doesn't care about anything. Jack grins wider and says, "Yeah, they're all good. Davey sent me smooches."

"See what I mean!" Crutchy exclaims. "Davey _always_  sends you smooches and _never_  the rest of us. It breaks my heart."

Spot nods. "It's plain discrim'nation, him doin' that. You oughtta have a word with him 'bout it."

"You're just mad cause I'm special," Jack says, grinning, before tucking his phone in his pocket. "Here, pass me a remote, I'm coming in on this."

"Ah, shit," Crutchy says, just as he loses on Rainbow Road for the third time that day, then grabs the spare remote and chucks it over whilst Spot peruses the courses.

There comes a time when he just has to stop thinking about things. He's gotten smooches out of Davey tonight; he can count it as a success. Jack just has to be extra careful in the future, especially when navigating all this new fake boyfriend shit. He doesn't want to screw up, and he doesn't want Davey to get stressed by it. He'll talk properly with Davey about it. Discuss boundaries. Set up rules. They hadn't managed much during their supposed-unpacking session; Jack briefly considers that him stopping the conversation to solo _Wanted Dead or Alive_  so often may be part of the reason why.

Anyway. He'll have to call Ann tomorrow and then everyone will start the usual summer must-do list that Jack'll have to reside over, and he and Spot and Crutchy'll have to run out to get the messages, and then he'll be at Davey's for food.

And hopefully Kath'll sort her situation out and come round some time during the summer. It's been maybe a week since he's seen her and he misses her already. Davey'll be missing her like mad, too, and Sarah, _obviously_ , is infatuated with her.

He just wants her round. Her, and all his friends, and his bestest best fake-boyfriend, all together, away from university and away from proper adults and away from anything that has to make Jack think too hard about the rest of his life.

He knows he can't escape forever, but he can damn well try.

\--

Spot was the first of in the flat to get a driving license. To this day, in fact, he remains the only one to have gotten a driving license. Jack got a motorcycle license, but not an actual motorbike, whereas Crutchy walks or hitches lifts off others. It works for them. So at midday following the reunion with their pals, the three of them climb into Spot's shitty old car and make for the supermarket.

"I made a list!" Crutchy says, like always, since he's the only one who actually checks what they do and don't need.

"Cheers," Jack says, sprawled across the back seat. "I have a coupl'a things to add if you don't mind."

"Aw, sure."

Jack lists the few creature comforts of his - chocolate digestives, frubes, and a certain brand of cereal bars - then adds, "But Davey says we should start eating lunch proper. Maybe we should, like. Try that."

"What did cereal bars ever do to you, Jack?" Spot snaps.

"What d'ya have in mind, Jacky?"

"Nothing, Spot, I love them loads... Also I dunno. I thought you might?"

Even though he's not looking, he can just tell Crutchy's rolling his eyes. He scratches something down on his notepad, though, muttering inaudible beneath the ukulele screamo that Spot's playing.

They make it to the supermarket alright, and though Spot rolls down the window and lets out some road rage at someone who stole their parking spot, they manage to get a disability space and unpack themselves from the car, armed with Crutchy's list, a plastic bag of plastic bags, and a fierce determination to get the job done.

Jack pushes the trolley, as always. Crutchy sits in it with his list, either urging Spot to get what they need from the shelves or ordering Jack to run and hop up on the trolley so that they can skid down empty aisles, Spot swearing viciously as he trails behind them.

"Hey," Jack says when Spot finally catches up, "speaking of boyfriends, how _are_  you an' Race?"

They weren't speaking of boyfriends, but Jack was absent-mindedly checking his phone whilst they waited for Spot and had received a scolding from Davey about the video snap he just sent of him and Crutchy zooming down the aisle.

"We're alright," Spot grudgingly replies, dumping some dry pasta in the trolley. His scowl is a little softer than usual, though, which means he's actually very pleased. "Pretty gay."

"Oh, man, still?"

"Shit, I know."

"When I told Davey yous two would be using the kitchen yesterday he was scared you'd be having sex there again."

Spot shrugs. "That one was your own damn fault. I'm never putting up with you drunk again."

"Yeah, you're never gonna have to if see you two having sex, in _our_  kitchen, is punishment."

Spot nods, like he's pleased with himself.

"How's it having him back?" Crutchy asks.

"Same as always, ain't it? He's only been back a couple days."

" _Yeah_ ," Jack says, "but he's been gone for months. Surely you missed him."

Spot's got his _I don't have human feelings_  face on. "Sure."

"Aw, Spot, you're such a _romantic_ ," Crutchy laughs. "Go get me some raisins, idiot."

Spot wanders off, and Jack stage-whispers, "Ah, to be young and in love."

"Don't give me none of that, Jack Kelly," Crutchy says, and Jack just laughs and gives them a running start the second the aisle is free.

"Oi, Kelly- _dammit_ , Jack!"

Jack grins and only jumps off the trolley at the end of the aisle, where he nearly crashes into some old man with a basket, who glares as he and Crutchy laugh uproariously, Spot dashing after them and shouting insults the entire time.

And shit, he's missed this. Crutchy went to Davey's uni, but on a different campus, doing pre-med. And that is a hard course, so it wasn't like Crutchy was even free when the rest of them were. Jack was pretty separate at uni, because he was the only one to go to that art school, and then only a handful of them went to the city's main uni, and a couple others went to the other unis, but the rest either went to different cities or stayed home.

Jack's missed Spot's sharp humour, his quick observations, the way he acts like he doesn't give a shit but is also somehow the angriest person Jack knows.

He's also missed making fun of how short he is.

He's missed their _team_ : him, Crutchy, and Spot, looking out for each other since the good old days. They ran into Mush and absorbed him into the group, then Spot was gone on Race the second he laid eyes on him, and obviously Jack picked up Davey and never looked back, but the three of them are solid, the core trio.

Not having them bothering him at all hours of the day had been weird, something important missing that Jack had overlooked whilst he had it. Jack doesn't like to think himself sentimental, but he'll always appreciate his friends, and Spot and Crutchy have been with him through some tough shit. Not having them almost immediately at hand was...disconcerting.

At least they're back, now.

"Kelly," Spot says as the three of them wander slowly up an aisle, "what happened with Katherine?" .

Jack blinks, then looks over. Spot's on his phone, where a notification from facebook messenger that Kath has just said something is up; and Spot's only met her a couple times, so of course he doesn't really know her story.

"Mmm, where to start," Jack mutters. "Well, Kathy's a rich girl - proper loaded, got a big mansion and half a dozens cars and you know the like. Her da's some big-time newspaper editor. So yeah, she and Davey meet during a lecture, become best pals, meet all us - and then she meets Sarah. And you know, after a couple months they get together, real cute, but, uh, she calls up her dad to tell him about her cool new girlfriend and he- kinda went ballistic?"

"Shit."

"Yeah. There wasn't technically anything he could do, but it freaked her out - she's always had free reign, I think she said, so she hadn't thought having a girlfriend would be a big deal? I dunno, she talked to Davey about it more than me. But yeah, he picked her up the second the course ended and now she's all but locked up in her room. She's trying to get out, though - wants to come down here, or take us all to some holiday house on the coast."

" _Shit_ ," Spot repeats. "I'm invited?"

"'Course."

"Hope she makes it out, then; she seemed alright."

"More than alright," Crutchy says. "C'mon, we need crisps too, Spot- no, not _those_ , those are awful, at least get McCoys- there's a good lad."

And Jack just laughs, because he really has missed them.

They end up with some essential foods, some non-essential foods, and some entirely-essential cases of beer and a couple bottles of whisky - they divvy up the bill between the three of them, reuse their plastic bags, then carefully install them around Crutchy. Jack then runs them out the shop with Spot perched on the front of the trolley, giving directions to the car.

Money's tight, but with the three of them they make it work - Spot's been working all year, obviously, and has worked his way up a little in this little mechanics place; Jack works at the same place (during summer), but at a lower level, and Medda pays him for painting backdrops for her community theatre; Crutchy works part-time helping out at the local hospital, and helps a call-line for people feeling shitty. So they're not loaded, like Kath; not even well off, like the Jacobs; and none of them have parents around, like Mush and Race do. But that doesn't matter; that's never mattered. They've got each other, and a way to get through for now - that's what matters.

Jack just doesn't want it to change.

\--

Sunday roast with the Jacobs family is usually an excellent way to conclude a day. He'd come down a few times during the year to fuck around at home and get his meal with the Jacobs. They welcome him with open arms, every time - have done since Jack found Davey, and Davey brought him home for a meal as a thank you. Jack had felt awkward at first - awkward, and acutely aware of what he lacked - but in time he grew into it, into the family banter and their inside jokes, of Esther kissing his cheek in greeting and Mayer asking Jack about school just like he did with Davey, of Sarah grinning wickedly and challenging him all the time and Les looking up to him with big round eyes, like Jack was some kind of hero.

Good times. But today has been a hectic day. After breakfast, he, Spot and Crutchy had gone straight to get the messages - and after unpacking the food, the three of them had taken their usual seats in the living area and negotiated summer plans in the main group chat.

At least, attempted to. Times like those make Jack lament his charming, friendly personality that draws people to him like a magnet.

None of them could ever sort _anything_  out, not to mention Kath being impossible to pin down for anything. She hadn't made much progress on her father's PA yet, sadly, so if she would even come round, or if they would all go out to her holiday house, was still up in the air. As well as that, he had to try and navigate the dozens of requests and ideas all his friends were coming up with, ranging from a barbeque all the way to _hijacking rocket ship & flying to the moon together #themoonisgay_.

And Race really didn't take well to rejection.

After that mess, he'd called Ann, and dealt with her being alternately mad and happy about his supposed relationship with Davey, and when they finally agreed on a time he'd come round her's, she insisted he bring Davey with him. Then he got in bed and texted Davey about boundaries and Ann and napped, vaguely contented, for a couple hours before his biological clock woke him up in time to get ready to see the Jacobs again.

"I'll be out for a bit, alright, text me if you get arrested," Jack calls, grabbing his knackered denim jacket and swinging his keychain round his finger. "Crutchy, text me if Spot gets arrested."

"Always do, Jacky," Crutchy says, appearing at his doorway to salute. "You say hi to the Jacobs for me!"

"'Course," Jack says. "See ya."

Crutchy waves, and Spot yells incoherently from his own room, then Jack shuts the door behind him and exits the flat block, setting off for the Jacobs family home half an hour away.

Surprisingly, he's only two minutes into _Wanted Dead or Alive_  before, of all people, _Sarah_  texts him. Which isn't, he supposes, terribly unusual, but if Sarah's texting him and Davey isn't it usually means there's some kind of problem...

_Davey is getting super nervy for u coming over?? Pls call him & get ur arse over here asap I am doing my best but mama keeps calling me down to help her!! Thanks babe <3 xx_

Jack starts walking faster, shame coursing through his vein as he replies, _im already on it saz thx for telling me <3 xx_

And then he calls David on his speed dial, waiting as the phone rings and rings and rings and then, "Yo, Davey?"

"Hey Jack," David replies, voice quiet and careful. "Did Saz ask you to call?"

Jack laughs, though his gut is still twisting with the fact he has to do this at all - the fact that it's _his_  fault. "My Davey-senses went off. How are you doing?"

"...Not good," David whispers. "I was thinking, about things, and us, and my family, and us not even really _being_ \- maybe I shouldn't've invited you over, this is _dumb_ , what if they just laugh, or they don't understand, or they get mad, or- _Jack_ , I'm really scared. Jack, I'm scared and it's not even _real_."

"I'm coming over, Davey. We don't have to tell your parents anything if you don't want us to, Sarah will understand. You hold tight, though, I'll be there before you know it."

"Please come soon," David asks in such a tiny voice that Jack knows he is ashamed to even ask it. "I... Please be here soon."

"'Course, Davey, course," Jack replies, his fast walk turning into a fast run, feet carrying him effortlessly to where the Jacobs family live. Jack stays on the phone - he's learnt that, especially in times like these, it's better to wait till Davey hangs up. David said just hearing Jack was there helped, even if he didn't say anything, and Jack imagines Dave'll be able to hear his accelerated breathing, his feet thudding quickly and heavily against the pavement.

"Tell me you're not running," David says after a moment with half a laugh.

"You said come quick! And I didn't even go for a run today, so I'm having one now before I have a big meal!"

"You are such a liar," Dave says, voice warmer than before, a little like he might laugh.

By contrast, Jack's grin falls and he's only glad David isn't around to see. David, of course, doesn't know anything; that, of course, is the problem.

Jack pretends his racing heart has to do with the running.

"Whatever, Davey," he says quickly, trying to laugh it off. "I really didn't go for a run today."

"I saw you running down the supermarket aisles with the trolley. While on your _phone_."

Jack really does laugh, now. "Those runs are all short and need excessive bodily strength and control. _Especially_  if I'm on the phone. Not the same as a nice relaxing jaunt through the park."

"There isn't a park near you?"

"When I close my eyes, Davey..."

"When you close your eyes you run into things, Jack, we've all seen you drunk."

"When I close my eyes," Jack says, trying to sing as he runs, "you're all I see, Davey, in the dark of night, you're in my dreams..."

"Shut _up_ , Jack-"

"Throughout the day, you're easy to find, you're always there, Davey, when I close my eyes..."

"I _hate_  that you love country music, I hate it, no one else likes country music, no one _sane_  even acknowledges its existence."

Jack has to stop before he runs out of breath, but he keeps up the jog as David talks some more shit on country music, and he must put the call on speaker because Jack can hear him puttering around his room and occasionally responding to his parents calling on him.

Jack's in silence now that his phone is being used for a call, and maybe it becomes obvious to Davey because after a while _Wanted Dead or Alive_ comes on, presumably through Davey's laptop, playing just quietly enough that Jack must still be heard over it.

Jack mouths the lyrics and keeps running, only taking his jacket off when he's forced to stop at a traffic light before sprinting off again for the last ten minute stretch.

Athleticism was never Jack's strongest suit, but he was in the rugby and cross-country teams during school, and he had some muscle from the random fights he couldn't stop getting into with the Delancey brothers - the boys who used to bully Davey.

So sprinting ten minutes to Davey's to calm him down from an anxiety attack that wouldn't be happening if Jack hadn't put them in this situation? Not a big deal. Probably not even a big enough punishment for all the shit Jack's caused him; undoubtedly will continue to cause him.

Not that Jack has the time to wallow in self-pity. No, he needs to get to Davey's _soon_ , and yes, that does mean sprinting faster, and avert the anxiety attack, and then the two of them can talk to Les, then navigate telling Davey's parents-

And Christ, what chaos for something that isn't even real. What chaos for something Jack only made up to stop his aunt nagging him about not dating anyone.

Yes, this is the very least he can do.

\--

Sarah answers the door within seconds of him rapping his knuckles against it - he has no doubt she's been loitering there waiting for him. He kisses her cheek and races up the stairs, relying on Sarah to stem Les, who has flung open his door and yelled, "Is that Jack?!" as Jack darts past to Davey's room.

Still, he knocks and bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Davey to let him into his space.

"Jack?" he hears. "You can come in."

So Jack goes in. As he guessed, Davey's laptop is open on his desk, next to his mobile, which Davey draws a finger across to end their call. A pack of paracetamol is opened next to it, with a half-empty glass of water. Jack's favourite song drifts from the laptop speakers as Jack picks his way forward. David's room isn't hard to navigate - everything is immaculately tidy, the exact opposite of Jack's already-messy room. David's sitting cross-legged on his big leather desk chair, head down as he kneads a rugby-shaped stress ball between his fingers.

That had been the result of a particularly bad incident whereupon Jack had found David bleeding from crescents in his palms, up and down his arms, blood drying behind his fingernails. So Jack had gotten him the dumb stress ball, shaped like a rugby ball because Jack played and Davey would try and come to all their matches, even if he'd often bring along his homework.

But Davey said being reminded of Jack helped. So maybe it wasn't really that stupid.

"Hey Davey," he finally says, guilt burning his chest as he kneels in front of Dave. "What's up?"

"Waiting for you."

"Aw, sweet," Jack croons, smiling like that might hide the concern in his eyes. "What do you need me to do?"

"I, um, I did breathing exercises, so that's- that's fine. And I, um, got this," he holds up the stress ball. "I just- wanted to talk to you. Make sure you were real."

"'Course," Jack says, resting a hand on David's knee in case he needs extra confirmation.

This seems to be all Dave needs. He uncrosses his legs and pushes back the chair a little, slipping out to kneel opposite Jack, barely an inch between them. "We do have to talk. But can we just-"

Jack opens his arms wide. "I'm always a slut for cuddles," he says, receiving a swat on his arm before Dave wraps one arm securely round Jack's back and grips Jack's shoulder with the other, the stress ball dropping to the ground. Jack waits until Davey has pressed the side of his face against Jack's shoulder before returning the hug, one hand smoothing down David's hair whilst the other strokes his back. "We're gonna be alright," he promises softly. "You ain't gotta worry."

"Sometimes I worry you're some kind of fever dream," David admits into Jack's shirt. "You're too good to be real."

Jack gapes. "Don't be ridiculous, David Mayer Jacobs, you are the ultimate cinnamon roll, too good for me, too pure."

"Are you _really_  bringing memes into this conversation Jack, are you _really_."

"I already did," Jack says. "I'm being serious, though. You're so clever and gifted and funny and _good_ , and I'm just some- street scum who can hardly keep his life together."

" _Jack_ ," says David, drawing away a little to look into his eyes, "you're just as smart as me, and you _know_  it. And you're not some _street scum_ , don't ever call yourself that, you're charismatic, you're a _leader_ , you're the best artist I know and you're so... _giving_ , to everyone."

Jack shakes his head. "You're insane, Dave." Then, considering the situation, he amends, "I mean, you're wrong. Sweet a you to say, but it ain't true."

"Ja- _ack_ ," Davey says, "you are _remarkable_."

"Whatever. This is about you. Are you feelin' any better?"

"Feel better now."

They don't let go of each other yet, though.

"Hey Jack?" Davey says.

"Yeah?"

"You're my problematic fave."

Jack starts cackling. "I'm putting that in the group chat, I'm going to get Spot to crosshatch it so I can hang it in my room, Davey, let's put that in our wedding vows."

Davey pulls away fully now, turning away to have some more water once he stands, Jack already on his phone. "You realise we're not getting married, Jack, don't you?"

"Who knows, Davey? Surely that natural progression of a fake relationship is a fake marriage?"

" _No_ , Jack, it's a fake break-up," Davey says, turning back to face him with the empty glass. "C'mon, it's almost six. Mama will be mad if we don't help her out."

Jack rolls his eyes but follows Davey down the stairs, running into Les almost immediately at the bottom, which reminds Jack of, "Oh, Les, we gotta tell you something."

And Davey freezes for a half second, then nods when Jack looks at him, quickly.

"What is it, Jack, you can tell me," Les assures them, then glances furtively round them. They're in the Jacobs hallway, empty besides the three of them. "I'll even keep it a secret, if you want."

"Only for a little bit," Jack says. "Before we tell your parents. See, me an' Davey, we, uh, we... We're not just best friends, now."

Les taps his watch. "Time's getting on, Jack, and Mama wants me to set the cutlery."

Jack grins. "Alright, I'll lay it straight for you- well, I mean..." Davey turns his laugh into a cough. "I mean, me an' Davey, we're together, now. We go on dates and stuff. You know?"

"Yeah," Les says. "I know."

Jack and Davey share another glances. "And you're...cool with it?"

"Maybe I'm only eleven, Jack, but I know what _dating_  is - and honestly, Davey needed a boyfriend, he'd been single for too long."

"Les!" Davey bursts out. "Oh my god, why does everyone have an opinion on me not having a boyfriend till now-"

"But you and Jack are perfect together! You have my blessing. But I really have to help Mama, now, and you should too, Dave! You're not getting out of anything just 'cause your _boyfriend'_ s here."

Les runs off, and Dave stares for a moment before saying, "Wow. I hate all my life choices."

"Aw, c'mon," Jack says, following after Les towards the kitchen. "It was cute."

"He is absolutely ridiculous for an eleven year-old."

"He must take after you."

That earns him another swat, but before Davey can unleash verbal hell on him, Mama Jacobs is there, ushering the both of them into the kitchen, where Les is collecting the good silverware and Sarah is keeping an eye on the gravy.

"Oh, boys, so lovely you made it down," Esther says. Kissing his cheek, she says, "Jack, you rushed right by us all! No hellos, no how are yous! We haven't seen you in months!"

"Sorry, Esther," he says sincerely. "I heard Dave was in a spot o' trouble, though, and you know, priorities."

Esther smiles. "I didn't realise," she says. "Thank you." Turning to Davey she says. "And you're alright now, bubala?"

"I'm fine, Mama," he says. "Jack's here now."

"Yes, he is. And now both of you can help me with the dinner. Your father has already got the plates, Davey, but if you could get the mats out- Jack, be a dear and get everyone's drinks ready? Thank you, love."

The kitchen bustles with energy as Mayer returns and says his hellos, and the six of them work seamlessly until the meal is ready, and Jack and Davey are taking plates through to the dining room where Les, Mayer, and Sarah are sitting, waiting patiently.

Once they're all through, they pass round sides and Jack pours water for everyone, then Mayer pulls out a bottle of wine from beneath the table - "For our boys and our lovely daughter returning home!" he says, pouring wine for everyone, and the tiniest tad for Les, before they all cheers.

This is why Jack loves being here. He is unmistakably part of this _family_ , even if he isn't their flesh and blood. They accept him as one of their own, unquestionably. It's more than Jack saving Davey from those bullies again and again until he finally drove them off - this is love, real love. He doesn't understand how it's possible, how it could've ever happened to him, but it has.

Outside of his own little flat, it's maybe the only place he feels he really belongs, sat in the Jacobs' dining room with the family sitting round him, eating the usual Sunday roast and discussing their past week, asking Davey and Jack and Sarah about uni and making sure Les is finding secondary school okay.

And then, about halfway through a meal of Sarah and Les darting looks at Jack and Davey whilst Esther and Mayer blether obliviously, Mayer says, "Well, Jack, Davey says he's had no luck in love at uni, but what about you?"

And this is it. Jack looks at Davey, who nods a little, taking a deep breath to steel himself, then Jack turns back to Mayer with a charming grin and says, "Did he? That's not how I see it, but, ah, maybe I've been wrong this whole time."

Esther tilts her head, Sarah snickering in the background. "What's this, Davey? Something you didn't tell us? And you told _Jack_?"

Les is laughing too, now, and Jack grins wider, nudging Davey. "Yeah, Davey, what _did_  you tell me?"

Jack doesn't care it's fake, he's having too much fun with this.

"Uh," Dave starts out promisingly, meeting his parents' eyes before darting away again. "Uh, well, I would've told you, I just thought- just thought, um, Jack should be here..." He trails off, but his parents only stare expectantly at him. He seems to be struggling, so Jack takes his hand nonchalantly, and waits.

Esther's eyes hone in instantly. "Ah," she says.

"Ah?" Mayer repeats. "Dave, you can just tell us."

"Yes," Davey says, "yes, I know, I... Jack and I, we...got together. Before finals. And we're-" He licks his lips. "That's why- that's, um-"

" _Ah_ ," Mayer says. "Well, this calls for a celebration! Another bottle of wine!"

"Another-" Davey frowns. "You're not- you- what?"

"What?" Mayer repeats. "Our first son finally got a boyfriend! It took him long enough." But he's smiling brightly, hand clutching Esther's, looking the picture of pride.

Jack feels three equal stabs in his chest - pride for helping put that look there; shame, because it's all fake; and a lingering, pervasive sadness that Jack shoves away, because he doesn't really have anyone to look at him like that.

Not any _real_  parents of his own.

"And with his best friend!" Esther crows. "Ah, I always knew it. A mother's intuition."

Sarah laughs hysterically at this.

"You only told me today!" Les accuses. "You've been together for ages!"

David seems incapable of speech, so Jack explains, "Finals were really busy. We didn't have time to tell anyone, Les, even someone as important as you."

Les frowns, but lifts his chin, satisfied with the answer.

"Davey," Esther finally says. "Is this why Jack came over so early? Were you worrying about this?"

David sinks a little in his seat, fingers gripping Jack's tightly. "Well, um-" He pauses, and takes a careful breath. "Y-yes... You didn't, um... When I first...came out, it just...didn't go well, and I was just- I was just _nervous_ -"

" _David_ ," Mayer says, and the table goes quiet and still. "Your mother and I were wrong for reacting the way we did when you told us you were gay. Nothing we can do will ever make up for the fact we didn't immediately support you, and that we went so far as to drive you to stay elsewhere for the night. And whilst we may not be perfect now, we are doing our best to learn about the issues affecting you and how we can do our best to help you, and other people like you, in the world. You can tell us _anything_."

"Davey," Esther says, "we _love_  you. Perhaps the way we reacted that night gave you reason to doubt this, and I doubt we can ever be sorry enough to make up for the pain we caused you, but your father is right. We want to help you. We can only help if you _talk_  to us."

David blinks a few times in quick succession, thumb rubbing constantly against Jack's hand, more out of nerves than anything. "Okay," he says after a moment, his voice a little choked. "Okay."

Jack stays silent, layers his free hand over his and Dave's entwined ones, and waits outs the quiet.

"Thank you," is all David says eventually, and Sarah smiles softly on his other side, her hand on his knee.

"You don't need to, bubula," Esther assures him. "Now, Jack - I had no idea about you."

Jack scratches his head. "Didn't you?" he asks. "I'm a thing called _pansexual_ , I've been told - I like just about anyone, really."

Esther nods. "Yes, Sarah told us all about all those things. Now, in regards to our dear Davey - you two've been best friends for so long, but I must ask: you won't _hurt_  him, will you?"

Jack shakes his head furiously. "'Course not, Esther, I would _never_  do anything to hurt him, I swear it!"

"You better keep to that, then," Mayer says, as Esther nods next to him. "That's our son you're dating."

"Mama, Papa," David interjects, voice stronger than it was before. "That's my _boyfriend_  you're talking to."

Mayer grins. "So it is. Now, where is that wine?"

"I'll go get it," Sarah says, rolling her eyes and ruffling the boys' hair as she passes by them.

"That went well," Jack mutters, leaning in close to Davey as Les starts discussing the unfairly low wine limit imposed upon him. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah," Davey replies, nodding a little.

"Intense, though. Considering it's all, y'know." Jack shrugs.

"Well...at least I know they're cool with boyfriends?"

"And cool with _threatening_  me - Davey, I'm starting to think breaking up with you could get me in serious danger."

"Like Spot wouldn't be planning my own death."

"We'll just have to never break up, I guess."

Davey turns away again, but not so much as to obscure the red in his cheeks. "I guess so," he says, but this time, his voice is a little strained.

Jack decides not to ask. It's easier to bask in the warmth of a good meal, shared with good people, drinking good wine.

It's a luxury Jack never experienced before meeting the Jacobs. Even after meeting them, it still feels like a rarity, something precious to hold onto - and Jack holds on tight, cataloguing every meal shared with them in the back of his head. This family, and the family he has of his friends, are the only ones he needs, really. The Jacobs and his friends are the only family Jack Kelly supposedly even has - and he will love them as fiercely as if they were his own.

It's not much, but right now, it's all he can offer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! pls be patient for the next chap bc.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  <3


	3. one two three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> david hadn't exactly expected it to be easy; but nor had he expected it to be quite this hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ is rly all i have to say. uni is!!! weird. also i discovered bioware aren't releasing the trespasser dlc on the 360, so i'm recreating my entire 2nd playthru on pc so i can do the ending w/ my fave inquisitor... also the hamilton album dropped on npr so????
> 
> ok also a lot of this was written whilst drunk/sleep-deprived/both. it's been edited but...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ make what u will of it. hopefully the next chapter will have more....idk substance??
> 
> oh also i was re-reading the 1st chap, i realised that jack's accent has gotten way worse...so quickly... alas i apologise
> 
> yh, anyway. cute jacobs fam, jack telling davey he's great bc i 100% believe jack knos davey has shitty self-esteem and has thus made it his duty to remind davey he's actually a Cool Guy, also brief panic attack/identity crisis at the end. which is always fun. and lots of les! enjoy

The Jacobs have a routine in place after Sunday roast. The children will collect cutlery, plates, and glasses, whilst the parents take the big dishes from the centre of the table to the kitchen. Their mother, having prepared the meal almost entirely by herself, will thank them for their help, await their thanks for the meal, then retire to the living room to watch whatever inane show is on BBC at the current time. Les wipes down the mats and surfaces and is usually free to depart; Sarah loads the dishwasher with what she can then also leaves.

Their father pretends to do the dishes for a while before letting David and Jack take over, washing and drying then putting everything away. Usually whilst harmonising on _Dead or Alive_.

They've got it down to an art, of course.

This time, however, David's father says, "Why don't you two go upstairs for awhile? We can handle all this."

David tilts his head to the side; Sarah snickers and Les makes a face; then Jack says, "You don't mind?"

"Of course not, Jack. You can shut the door, just keep it down." His father smirks at David, prompting Sarah to giggle harder whilst Les starts humming loudly.

David's face burns red. " _Papa_!" he squawks. Grabbing Jack's hand, he says, "Thanks for dinner! I'll just, um- just- let's never talk about anything ever again?"

Sarah and his father are outright cackling as he drags Jack off, who's obviously loving it - he waves as they go, laughing.

" _God_ ," David says as they climb the stairs, well aware that his skin is still incredibly pink. "What are they like? He just- _assumes_ \- oh my god, I'm so embarrassed... _Jack_ , stop laughing!"

"What?" Jack says, by his side now as they continue up then along the corridor. "It's funny. It's nice a them, even."

"It's _embarrassing_ \- he just said we could- we could-!" He can't finish the sentence without imagining what his father was implying, though, and that is the kind of topic he ought not dwell, not whilst Jack is right beside him.

Good lord.

"Hey, it's no like we're actually dain it," Jack says, and David nudges him sharply. "What? It's true!"

David just shakes his head, finally entering his room and collapsing back into his desk chair. "Whatever, Jack." Decicing it's time for a quick change of topic, he asks, "Did you get anything sorted out for the week?"

"The week?" Jack repeats, then nods in understanding. "Naw, what do you think? Everyone wants to do half a dozen things and I cannae keep up, ya know?"

"Yeah, I was listening in on the chat."

"Yeah, I saw you lurkin' there, no saying anything. Some boyfriend, eh?"

David flushes. "Whatever, Jack," he says. "They don't listen to me, anyway, they listen to you."

"Aw, c'mon, Davey, gie yoursel' some credit - they always listen to ya, they know you're the smartest lad around."

"No, I'm not."

"Aye, says the guy who got six - not five, but _six_  - A1s on his Highers."

"Book smarts aren't everything, Jack."

"Shit, I know that," Jack says. "But they're a lot, don't ya think?"

"...Yeah, sure," David says, because this is kind of a delicate subject - both he and Jack recognise that being academically smart takes you further in terms of uni and jobs, and it's just difficult...because David doesn't believe in his intellect, but Jack has suffered massively from his lack of it.

They tend not to discuss it, really.

"Hey," Jack says, lounging across David's bed. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Oh," David mumbles. "I don't know."

"You can come round again. Just us an' the flat, Saz is ya want. Just hang out for a bit? Party at the weekend? We can go to a museum, Davey, I know you love that shit."

So maybe Jack knows how to get to David. "I know _you_  love it, too. When's everyone free? Aren't they getting jobs during the summer? Aren't _you_?"

Jack holds his hands up. "Yeah, yeah, Spot got me sorted already. Start tomorrow. Free at the evening. Don't you have somethin' goan on?"

"Just writing stuff for Denton every now and then." David shrugs. "It's not a...full-time thing, I guess."

"Still," Jack says, "we're making _money_ , Davey. We should save up. Go on a trip."

"Yeah? And where would we go?"

"Anywhere, Davey. Don't ya want to do that?"

Of course, Davey thinks. Of course, Jack. Except David doesn't _need_  to go anywhere to be happy around Jack - he just needs Jack, and isn't that shameful? To be so in love with his best friend who could only feel platonically for David? Who's only being romantic because it's convenient?

"Sure," is all David says.

"Santa Fe," Jack says. "We could go there. Be real cowboys. New York, see shows and walk around the Park. China or Peru or Wales, even. Wouldn't that be funny, Davey? Where do you want to go?"

He considers this. "I want to go to Italy," he decides. "Then I'll write an article about the insane government and the poor keeping of historical monuments and drink lots of good, cheap wine every night." He pauses, then adds, "Sarah went on a school trip to Rome for Classics. She said the teachers got tanked in a bar and that every night they went to outdoor restaurants where they were serenaded by pianists."

"Right up your alley, then."

"Lots of tacky merch with Roman statues' bits on them."

"Right up _my_  alley, too!"

David smiles. "We should do it, sometime. When you're a world-reneowned artist and Florence is begging you to paint them."

"When _you're_  the sharpest journalist who's not afraid to venture into any situation to show the public what it needs to see."

David snuggles a bit more into his desk chair, and Jack begins wrapping David's blanket round himself. "I was talking to Sarah after we left last night."

"Aye?"

"She reacted like everyone else, you know. She called us a power couple."

"I think we are."

"We would be," David says, and stops short of saying _we could be_ , like it would matter to him.

Of course it doesn't. Why... Why would that matter to David?

"We'll take on the world together, Davey," Jack assures him. "Just you wait."

"Sarah was drunk. You have no excuse."

"You got the brains, I got the face."

"You're more than a face. You're a _leader_."

"An' you're the one I'd fall apart without." Jack raises his eyebrows meaningfully, but David just shakes his head. "You are. Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're..." David stops, uncertain of how to put it. Jack's _everything_  - clever, funny, strong, courageous. And what is Davey? Always five seconds away from a nervous breakdown. "I'm a burden. You can go so far, you _will_ , but I... I'm a nervous wreck, Jack. Everything I know could be found in a textbook. I'm not _actually_ that smart, just... I read things, then I copy them down and make them into essays, and what's so incredible about that? But you, Jack... You see the world, you want to...change it, somehow. And you think you can. And you _can_. But I... I'm not...essential the way you are. I'm replaceable."

"Don't be ridiculous." Jack pats the space next to him on the bed, and David frowns but Jack uses his puppy eyes, so of course David sits with him. Jack slings an arm round his shoulder and pulls him close, closer than best friends, closer than fake-dating.

David doesn't say anything, though. This kind of interaction is _normal_ , which means it isn't really that special at all.

"You're the opposite of a burden, Davey. You _changed_ my life. Where would I be without you? Locked up in some young juvenile place, like Spot for a while? Shit, I... I'd probably be doing drugs and fighting people... I mean, shit, Davey, before I met you I was getting ready to fight in the streets, you know, the Club Boys are right roun' the corner. I was gonna do it, fuck knows I needed the money... But you...made me believe the world was worth saving. That people were worth saving. And I don't know if you need saving...but I'd do it any time. You already did it for me, I need to pay back the favour. If I change the world it's only 'cause you changed mine. You're worth more than you know."

David ducks his head, once again mortified by his ability to blush extraordinarily quickly, and obviously. "You're just saying that."

"Bull _shit_. You're my best friend. An' I love ya, okay? Race, Spot, Crutchy...they never rocked my world like you. But am glad ya did."

"I did nothing. I sat and cried and you saved _me_  from the bullies. And then you _kept_  doing it. I...didn't understand." David shrugs. "I still don't."

"I hate bullies," Jack states. "And I always liked you, actually. Even if we never spoke. Think it's your eyes - do you know how, like, bright blue they are? Like, mad blue. Like the ocean, but, like, around the Maldives, you know? _That_  blue. An' the way you never really spoke up in class but if the teacher picked you you always had the right answer. I always admired you."

"I admired you first. You didn't care about anything, and everyone seemed drawn to you. I _wish_  I could make friends so easily like you, but I... I don't know how to talk to people."

"And now you've got me, and I've got you. And now we're pretending to be dating, but, uh, you know..."

"Yeah."

"Hey, Davey. You love me too, right? Bestest best friends till the end?"

David doesn't know how to say _I love you too_  without saying _I'm in love with you_  and _I've always been_  and _Jack I wish you were in love with me too_.

"Of course," David says. "Of course."

And Jack smiles, and pulls them back against the bed. "Great."

They fall asleep, soon after. Les finds them, intending on some Smash Bros Brawl with his favourite two guys, but he figures maybe he should leave them like this - cocooned on top of David's bed, wrapped in his blanket, David's head lolling on Jack's shoulder, whose arm is crushed beneath David.

Les doesn't bring it up, but Sarah does, two hours later when Jack needs to go home.

They both blush. They both don't realise the other is doing the exact same.

\--

David checks in with Denton that Monday. He sends an email, formally worded but a few casual slips since he and Denton are, to some extent, friends. Denton covered the surge in Highers results after the curriculum change, and David was one of the people he interviewed. David gots six A's, after all, in a school where most students were expected to maybe pass three Highers.

So Denton had interviewed him, and deemed him rather bright, and when David had expressed interest in journalism, Denton had given him his email and they'd remained in contact since. Now David's got a summer job at the newspaper firm, sometimes writing things, but mostly editing them. He doesn't care. It looks good on his CV, and Denton's always looking out opportunities for him.

So David emails him about what's going on and what David's expected to do and confirming the time and date and when David's actually coming in. He does, after all, have to actually go to the firm and meet the boss and see how everything's run. It gets his heart jumping a little, but Denton will probably be there, and though Denton's a slave to the capitalist machinery that exploits the working class, he's still pretty decent.

His answer is thus: _Hey David, I'm writing an article that should be printed for the Friday edition. I'll send it to you when I'm done for editing. Feel free to write a few articles on anything you find relevant, and send them to me so I can evaluate them and whether they can be sent in. Hopefully this article won't take too long. I'll see you on Wednesday to show you round the firm, 10am sharp please. I'll be waiting outside. See you then, Denton._

So that's what David had to look forward. He figures he should put this on the group chat, to let them know he's out of comission Wednesday. He's not the only one. Half the boys have managed to pick up jobs, and most of the rest are looking. Race isn't, cause he's a lazy bastard and likes hanging around Spot's room as much as David likes hanging around Jack's, and Katherine quite obviously isn't. A few of the younger boys - Romeo, Itey, and Snipeshooter, for example - aren't really that serious about looking for jobs, either. They want the cash, sure, but school doesn't end for another few weeks, and even then they'll mostly be focused on enjoying the holidays with their older friends before school resumes.

Plans are forming on the group chat, albeit slowly. Katherine has reported mild progress - she order some donuts and flowers to be sent to the PA, then she sweet-talked her after, so she might give way a little. Jack's talking about a museum trip Thursday evening, when it's open late, and a party at the weekend, a proper party, for them and some other people, to get crunk and have some fun.

David's obviously a little less enthusiastic about the latter.

Sarah's busy, too, with a retail job and volunteering at the local pets' palce. Making plans is hard, but David hopes they go to the museum, because he has some ideas about a super cool and educational booklet he could make up that would basically make the trip an orienteering game. It would get the crew engaged, at any rate.

Also David just really likes making booklets. They're very pure.

Since most of David's friends are working, he decides to get started on next year's reading: a heap of books he's already bought that are lying stacked on his desk, in order of subject. Reading for university is a very taxing activity: David has to get his post-its, his coloured tags, his ballpoints, and his highlighters ready, then he has to get himself some water and set up at his desk. He reads for an hour, longer if he's on a roll, then breaks for ten minutes.

This works until one, when Jack texts him presumably from his lunch break at work.

_yo hunny bun, totally forgot 2 mention but ann wants us round soon??? like literally tomoz?? for dinn dinnz? pls say yes xxxxxxx_

And oh, _god_ , David doesn't want to deal with Ann anymore than Jack does. She has good intentions, but she meddles in Jack's life more than Jack would like - David assumes it's something to do with Jack's parents being dead and her being his only living relative, but still. She's therefore interested a lot in David, which isn't always great fun, and now he and Jack are supposedly _together_...

He sends the frowny emoji.

Jack's reply takes literally less than ten seconds and comprises this: _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

He asks for the time.

_who knows i can come round after work tho we'll get the bus. u'll get ice cream... ;) xxxxxxxxx_

David sighs loudly, stares at his lamp for a moment as if it might understand his problems, then texts, _fine yeah i'll go_

And that should be the end of it, but it's Jack, so of course it isn't. _rnt u FORGETTING smthn davey xxxxxxx_

_fineeeee xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

And that is that.

\--

He hangs out with Les the next day - it's an in-service day at school, apparently, so everyone's off. They end up going to the cinema together, then hanging around in Pizza Express for longer than probably necessary. Les informs him of every detail of school life, including his three girlfriends, his stellar grades, and his involvement in rugby. He's doing well, really well, and David is so proud of him - until Les, like _everyone else_ David knows, decides to start teasing him about Jack.

"I'm very happy for you, Davey," Les starts sagely, "but please don't be all... _gross_ with him in front of me."

"Les!" David says, scandalised. "I wouldn't... We- that's- we  _wouldn't_!"

Les raises his brows and says, "You've already come very close. Even before you went all official."

"Why does everyone keep _saying_ that."

Les only shrugs. "If you can't realise what's right in front of you, maybe you're not as smart as we all think."

God, when did his brother get so _cheeky_. "Whatever, Les," David says intelligently. "My relationship's my business."

"I know. I thought you could use some advice."

"Yeah, maybe from someone who isn't an eleven year old."

"I've had _three_ girlfriends, thank you very much."

"Yeah? And how long have they lasted?"

Les sticks his tongue out. "Practice makes _perfect_."

David rolls his eyes in retaliation, because he is a grown up and capable of communicating well with preteens.

"What's it like with just Mum and Dad, then?" he asks.

Les pulls a face. "Boring. Not as fun. We still do nachos night every now and then but it's not as fun. You're not there to explain all the sciencey documentaries we watch. And I miss Sarah. She always told me everything about history but now she takes ages to reply to texts. And the two of you are always off with your friends, and all I can do is hang around with Boots. Snipes even hangs out with you guys! And whenever Jack's over you just keep him all to yourself." It comes out one right after the other, quicker and quicker, and David realises with a drop to his heart that Les has been holding this in for quite some time.

"Aw, Les," he murmurs. "I had no idea. You should've said when we called." He frowns, scratching his neck. "Why don't you and I and Saz talk when we get home, yeah? We'll see what documentaries are on, get some popcorn, you know?"

Les nods. "Okay," he says.

"And, um...well, I think everyone's going to a museum someday soon? You can come along for that, and Boots too. You'll see Snipes again. And the rest of us."

"A _museum_?"

David smiles. "Yes, Les. I might make a booklet."

"You _would_."

"And with Jack... Well, he and I are going to Ann's tomorrow - you heard of Ann?" Les nods, and David continues, "I can text and ask if you can come too, if you want? I'm sure Ann won't mind."

"Okay, Davey."

Les is smiling a little, trying too hard to not seem like he's pleased with the results.

"Anything else?" David asks.

Les taps his fork on the table for a moment, then takes a sip of juice. "I get stuck on English a lot."

David nods. "I can help. You just text me, send me a pic of whatever you're doing, alright?"

"And you'll reply on time?"

"If I can."

Les nods. "I'm worried... A lot of teachers remember you and Sarah. I don't want them comparing me to you. I'm not as smart."

"Don't be _ridiculous_ , Les. Of course you are!"

"No I'm not! My form teacher keeps talking about how you two won the most prizes in your year, _every year_. The only thing I'm good at that you're not is sports."

"No way. I was never any good at geography."

Les stares for a moment, then cocks his head with a little smile again. "Okay."

"There were lots of diagrams! I couldn't pay attention to what the teacher was saying, I had to fill everything in perfectly. And I was terrible at Art. Even Sarah sucked a little at music. What do you play, again? Guitar, piano...?"

"And cello."

"Right! Our little musician, right here."

This seems to have worked. "Fine, okay. Thanks Davey." Les pauses, then adds, "And if anything's troubling you, you come and tell me instantly!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Why's it that you had to wait till Jack was over and let him help yesterday? Me and Saz were right there!"

David blinks, and the smile drips a little off his face. "Oh," he says. "That was...different. I mean- only Jack could've helped. Sorry, Les. But if it's something you and Saz can help with, I'll, um, I'll tell you."

"Do you _promise_ , Davey."

"I promise, Les."

"Nice."

They fist-bump over it, and spend the meal in relative peace after that. David foots the bill with a thirty percent off voucher, then they pop into Sainsburys quickly to get some food for tonight; David texts Sarah explaining the situation and asking her to stay in whilst Les runs off and finds popcorn and Pringles and big bottle of Diet Coke that David only accepts with a warning look.

" _Please_ , Davey!"

"Only because it's the three of us tonight. Don't go round bothering Mama about this kind of thing."

Les nods, puts it in the basket, then grabs three packets of chocolate buttons, because it is imperative that they each get their own bag.

David pays again, but it's not like it's a hardship. They catch the train to their station and walk home, Les babbling enthusiastically about what might be on the telly tonight and about how lucky is it that Mama and Papa were invited to some dinner party so it'll just be the three of them. Sarah replies soon with the affirmative, stating she's already home and can have a look through the channels in preparation of them coming home.

"Alright, Les," David says once she's sent him a few pics. "Sharks, Egypt, Hitler- _no_. Deep Sea? _Ooh_ , a re-run of Frozen Planet!"

Les raises his brows. "What else, Davey."

"Egypt, Egypt, cakes, how to make tin cans, top fifty pop scandals of the decade, predators of Africa, climate change in the Mediterranean..." David pauses, then says, "Frozen Planet?"

"We'll wait till we get home and _vote_ on it, Davey," Les proposes sensibly.

"You chose the food."

"You had to make up to me."

David bites back a retort, because Les is right, and they turn the corner to their street.

Upon entering their home, they're greeted with mugs of hot chocolate by Sarah, even though it's June. David's glad for it though, considering it isn't remotely sunny and actually approaching quite chilly. Sarah's brought all their blankets down and set them up in the living room, and the biggest sofa is covered in cushions. She has a plate of (store-bought) cookies lying out, and the TV guide up on the telly.

"Any thoughts?" she asks once David and Les have kicked their shoes off and hung their jackets up.

"Frozen Planet!" David calls as he hurries upstairs to change into some trackies and a hoodie.

"Democracy, Davey!" Les shouts after him.

David changes quickly, spurred on by the warm glow in his chest of spending time with his siblings; of having such _good_ siblings, who he looks after and who try to look after him, even when his brain isn't the best.

Siblings, David discovers, who set up Frozen Planet and leave him the spot at the edge of the sofa, where he can plug his phone in to charge and leave his drink on the end table.

"Diet Coke, Davey?" Sarah says, pouring it into glasses for him. "You know Mama doesn't like Les drinking that stuff."

"He asked very nicely," David defends himself. "Pass me the Pringles, Sarah, I need to be ready for this."

"Davey, you are _too obsessed_ with Frozen Planet."

"Impossible. _Pringles_ , now."

Sarah rolls her eyes and passes them over, then presses start on the documentary; and that's how the Jacobs siblings spend three solid hours in near-silence, bar from the 'gentle' ribbing David receives when he ends up texting Jack all the exciting facts from Frozen Planet. Eventually, of course, Les starts dozing, and Sarah and David confer quietly about what exactly he and Les discussed previously, and then they put him to bed and Sarah returns to her own room.

Sleep isn't so easy for David, though.

In fact, it doesn't come all night.

\--

Dinner with Ann isn't quite as awful as David had expected it to be. Les ends up tagging along, too, which wouldn't be so bad if he didn't keep raising his brows at David, and adding to Ann's interrogation of them over the steak pie. Jack comes round at half five to get the bus with them; he's in his less-scruffy jeans and a shirt, though granted he's rolled up the sleeves and undone the top buttons. David feels appropriately dressed in something similar. He'd compromised with Sarah on the outfit; agreed to wear the heinously skinny jeans only if he could keep his cuffs and shirt fully buttoned. She'd sent him a beautiful snapchat to demonstrate her disappointment in his choices, and he retaliated only by saving the pic to an entire album he has devoted to embarrassing snaps he has from his friends.

David and Jack can't really plan anything on their way to Ann's - they'd texted throughout the day to make sure they had the same story about getting together - and instead they're entertaining Les' many question. Well, Jack is. David's kind of been shunted to the side, but that's okay. Les hasn't seen Jack properly in months - and dinner the other day was too distracted for Les to get Jack to himself.

David, of course, isn't the only Jacobs family member to adore Jack. He's learnt to share.

So Les and Jack chat for the ten minute trip to Ann's, and all along the walk to her little tenement flat too, then up the stairs till they reach the second floor.

Then Jack and David solemnly high five, and Jack knocks on the door.

"Is that _Jacky-boy_?" they hear through the door, approximately two seconds before it's flung open, revealing a short, slightly chubby woman in her forties, with bouncy red hair and long red nails. "An' his wee friends! His _boyfriend_! Come in, come in."

Ann's flat is small, but it's comfortable, straddling a line between stylish and homey, much like Ann herself. Her two sofas are long and slender, but piled with cushions with hand-knitted covers; her high-tech television's screen is almost blocked by the flowers and pictures crowded around it. Her end tables are something antique, and polished, but dotted with mug rings and little chips in the wood.

Almost perfect, David thinks. Personality spilling through all the cracks, but in the best kind of way.

Yes, Ann can be rather awful sometimes - nosy, lonely, loud - but she's a good woman with a warm heart, and she smiles brightly at Les as she shows them to the sofas.

"What d'ya want to drink, hen?" she asks Les first, who sits at the end of the sofa, on David's side. He's sat with his shoulders hunched a little, hands gripped together tightly - he's never really met Ann, only heard Jack and the rest of them complaining every so often about her.

David decides to ask, "What do you have?"

"Aw, the usual. Juice, fizzy drinks, tap."

"How about some juice, Les, yeah?" David says carefully. Les nods. "Apple juice, for the both of us, please."

Despite trying to be confident, he still clutches Jack's hand, and uses their pretend relationship to justify shuffling up a little closer to him.

"Irn Bru for me, cheers, Ann. You want a hand?"

Ann pauses in her bustling to the kitchen, looking the three of them over before smiling. "I'm alright, Jacky," she says. "Ta, though."

Les digs himself into the sofa. "Hey," David murmurs, turning a little towards him. "She's not so bad, really. Comes on a little strong."

Jack nods. "I know we complain about her loads, but that's only 'cause she nags me so much, yeah? She's nice, promise."

"Alright," Les mumbles.

David takes a breath, glad that seems to be sorted. "Here," he says, digging out his phone and unlocking it. "You can play whatever you want, okay? Just don't go onto my messages."

Thankfully, Les takes the phone and proceeds to start on Candy Crush, and David is able to lean into the sofa a little bit and glance at Jack. Jack's edgy, too: he's bouncing his leg a little, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, scratching the back of his neck every few seconds.

"Tell me you're not nervous, too," David whispers. Jack only smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Keeping his voice quiet enough that Les won't hear, Jack replies, "Can ya blame me? She's clever. Don't want her to, ya know...see through it all."

"Yeah," David nods. "Yeah, no, me neither. What do you think would...?"

After a moment's deliberation, Jack just mutters, "Yeah, come 'ere," and disentangles their hands, leaving David grasping at nothing, before slinging his arm round David's shoulder and pulling him in close. Seizing up for a second, David has barely a moment to react to this change before Ann's returning with a delicate tray (from Sorrento, he knows) piled with four drinks and a plate of fancy-looking biscuits.

David can only shuffle so him and Jack are pressed side-to side and kind of wish desperately that he had his phone back, if only for something to do for his hands. Instead, he reaches for the apple juices, and passes Les his drink. Ann gives Jack his, and then she sits herself down on the sofa opposite.

"Tea should be ready in ten," she says. "Now, Davey, who's this wee lad?"

"Um," David begins. Then, "Um, well. That's, um."

Jack's just conveniently pressed his hand against neck, for no discernible reason, and all of David's brainpower is now attempting to prevent his face from flaring up, as so often it does.

Les gives a little sigh, and says, "I'm Les, his brother. I'm eleven, and I play three instruments."

Ann smiles, and David's just glad Les was able to overcome his brief moment of shyness to introduce himself. David's redirecting his brainpower from preventing blushing (a lost cause) to not focusing on Jack's hand, or his arm, or, well, anything _innapropriate_ David may potentially have felt at such touches.

It takes a _lot_ of brainpower to deal with that.

"Ooh, which ones?"

As the two of them blether on, with Jack ocassionally pitching in, David decides he might as well get comfy, leaning back into Jack's touch and taking a sip of his juice. Last night, after Frozen Planet, actually ended up quite rough. David couldn't sleep, a combination of his patchy insomnia and his nerves and potentially the sugar rush from all the junk food he'd eaten in those three hours. His room was hotter than the one in halls, and he was too scared to open the window in case bugs came in. He'd ended up tossing and turning for hours, duvet on the floor, wishing he could sleep but completely unable to. He'd tried to read, tried to play Temple Run till he dropped off, even tried _counting sheep_...

None of it had helped. He'd writen up several lists, though: ways in which this fake relationship could go wrong, sub-lists about who the consequences would affect and how, a shopping list, activities he and his friends could do during summer, ways he's let Sarah and Les down as a brother and a friend...

Then his mind got stuck on Jack, and how terrible everything about this entire thing was, and then he'd had to go to Sarah to calm down, and she'd made him tea, and by six a.m. he'd fallen asleep.

And by nine he was awake again, and he's only had three cups of coffee so it's perfectly acceptable for him to be a little sleepy, too.

Maybe too sleepy. Between one blink and the next, David's head drops onto Jack's shoulder and when David opens his eyes, Jack's taking his half-empty glass from him and placing it on the end-table.

Les is enthusiastically discussing his sporting achievements with Ann, who's enraptured. David's glad someone's paying Les the attention he needs, right now. The caffeine crash is hitting him hard, and though he wants to stay awake, Jack whispers, "You've got five minutes to sleep," and David's out.

\--

The next time David wakes up, Les is sitting beside Ann, and Jack's shoulder is still solidly under David's head, but the other three are all polishing off their steak pie.

"What?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and slowly straightening up. Jack only grins and pats his shoulder. "That smells really nice..."

"Sure it does," Jack replies, and when he offers forward his last forkful, David doesn't think twice.

"Why'd you get food and not me?" he asks once he's chomped it down.

"'Cause _someone_ didn't get his sleep last night," Jack says, and David frowns. "Ya shoulda called me."

"Nah," David mumbles. "Didn't want to bother you 'bout something dumb."

"It's no dumb," Jack says, passing over David's unfinished apple juice. "We all got problems."

David's mouth is pinched, but he takes a sip, and finally takes in the room. Ann's disappeared somewhere; Les is sitting, staring at them, plate clean and sitting on the coffee table between them.

Which raises a good point: "Why aren't we in the dining room?"

"Didn't wanna wake ya up, eejit."

Les makes a face, and David surmises this wasn't _his_ idea.

" _Davey_ ," Les hisses at the them. "You said you weren't gonna be all-" He makes a face and a few arm gestures, scrunching up his nose at them.

David is quite affronted. "We're not being all-" He mimicks Les.

"He was just sleepy," Jack says.

"Noo," Les whines, "you were being all- _ugh_."

David would protest some more, but Ann has just waltzed in, carrying with her a plate with some steak pie on it.

"Saved it for ya, love," she says. "Popped it in the microwave, hope you don't mind."

"O-oh," he says. "Thank you. No, I- sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep, I just-"

"We all got problems," she says, even though she'd been in the kitchen and couldn't possibly have heard Jack before. "It's quite alright, hen. The wee wane was telling me all about his life. Fascinating!"

"Yeah, it is," David says, before setting the plate on his legs and shaking off Jack's arm so he can cut up his food. "Star student, too; he mention that?"

"A few times," Ann says, and smiles. "But no chance to speak wae you yet! You an' Jacky - now who saw that coming!"

She looks at the both of them, who look at each other, and then she and Les grin at each other and start laughing.

"Um," David says. "I guess...everyone knowing...seems to be a common theme."

"Ah, an' who can blame us? Now, ya hafta tell us how it all began! Jacky wouldn't say a word whilst you were sleepin'."

David shoots him a look, chewing ferociously. Jack shrugs, but as David' glare refuses to weaken, he says, "D'ya mean from the _beginning_ or from, like...us getting together."

"I know all about the beginning," Ann says.

"Right. Uh, Davey..."

David rolls his eyes, and says, "We were just hanging out one day before finals, and, uh...realised..."

Then he keeps eating. Jack frowns, shakes his head, and instantly deviates from their script, despite David's increasingly narrowed eyes: " _Actually_ , what happened, right, is 'at me an' Davey are hanging out, right, same old, but I've a plan."

"A plan?!" Ann repeats with a grin, thankfully ignorant of David's incredulous features.

"Aye, a plan. Now, Davey might no believe me, but I've had him in my sights for a while, so I decided that I'd do a wee drawing of him, an' before I left, I put a little note on the back asking 'im out for dinner with me that night." Jack grins, and David trains his eyes on his food when he realises that _technically_  that did happen. Has, in fact, happened a few times.

"How romantic!" Ann coos. "What medium?"

"Sketch, with a few watercolours. Made it a lil special."

"And where is it, Davey? You still have it?"

David blinks and quickly chews his food. "Um, yeah. It's in my room."

Ann clasps her hands, and Les gets a vaguely scheming look in his eye. If Les wants to look through David's room for Jack's drawings, it won't take him long - they literally litter every surface and wall space David has.

"So anyway, that's no the end of it. Davey shows up, in jeans an' a shirt while I'm tryna dress up, an' I have to explain to 'im over dinner that I asked him out on a _date_ , not just as friends."

David's cheeks flare up, again, as Ann and Les cackle together. The worst part is definitely the fact that David _would_  do that kind of thing.

"So's I ask him out proper an' he says yes an' then we don't speak for like, three weeks 'cause of finals."

"Aw, how come?" Ann asks.

"He has a _rule_."

"No social media during exams," David states. "It's _necessary_  for us both, Jack!" He, of course, only means that they both need to revise for exams; Ann and Jack share a look, however, which prompts everyone else to start laughing whilst David distracts himself with the last of his steak pie.

After they quiet down, Ann says, "Well, it must feel very fresh! You came home right after finals, didn't ya, Jack?"

He shakes his head. "I waited a coupla days. Davey came home straight away."

Ann nods in understanding. "So Saturday was your first full day as a couple!"

"Yup!" Jack throws himself back against the sofa and wraps his arm round David's shoulder again, now he's done eating. "And what a day it was!"

David side-eyes him. "We unpacked your things and made cookies, then got heckled by all our friends for seven hours."

Jack beams. " _I_ had a great time, Davey." He pauses, then leans in, gazing at David in a way that's actually kind of uncomfortable. "But of course, I always have a great time when I'm with you..."

"Shut up, Jack," David mutters, looking away to hide his smile.

Les pretends to wretch.

"Now, now," Ann says, patting Les' shoulder. "You should be _happy_  for your brother. Jack's a good one."

"I know _that_ ," Les says. "They don't have to be... _ugh_ about it, though."

"One day that'll be you, hen."

Les huffs. "I'm _already_  very popular."

"Am sure ya are." Ann turns back to them, though. "So when's the first proper date?"

David considers this: he's pretty sure the first 'proper' date can only be defined once one defines what is meant by _date_  - every civilisation had certain ways of categorising the dawn and dusk after all, and of course some people would rather follow their religious doctrine than science-

"We's goan out for dinner on Sunday."

David blinks, completely derailed from his previous thought process. "We are?"

"Yup."

"Oh." He pauses, then says, "We can go to Pizza Express. I have another voucher for it."

"Ah, an' they say romance is dead." Jack grins, charmingly, as usual, and says, "Aye, sure. Let's go there."

Ann's eyes slide from Jack to David then back, then she nods. "Any other plans, then?"

"Aye," Jack says. "Tons."

Jack's finished his drink, so of course he takes David's apple juice and takes a big sip.

David rolls his eyes and says, "Museum trip with everyone on Thursday. I've got a work thing tomorrow. Party on Friday - probably call Kath again? Date on Sunday. _You_  need to see Medda again."

"Aye, true." Jack pauses, the continues, "Alright, fuck around-" David nudges him, and Jack splutters, "Sorry, Les!" Les just rolls his eyes, too. " _Screw_  around on Saturday. Got work in the mornin', but am free in the afternoon. My prof says I gotta start working more on _oil pastels_ , Davey, so you're gonnae hafta model for me. You can, uh...lecture me on journalism, I guess."

David lifts his chin. "Maybe I will. I have readings to do, too." He adds, after some consideration, "We're not listening to _Dead or Alive_  again, are we?"

Jack grins.

"No, absolutely not," David says. "I'm bring every single classical record I own, I can _not_  stand listening to that song one more time."

"Hey, Ann," Jack says. "I'm a cowboy, right?"

"Aye," she says. "Though yer lackin' a steel horse, son."

"Yeah... Well, I'm savin' up fae one."

"Good lad."

He winks. "Cheers. So, followin' that logic, that song should be, like...the audio soundtrack to my life, right?"

"Right."

After a moment, Les also says, "Right."

David lifts his eyes to the ceiling and says, " _Why_."

He doesn't get an answer, only Jack jostling him, pulling him closer, and saying, "You _love_  it."

Yes, well. Jack doesn't need to know quite how much, does he?

\--

Jack says goodbye to them on the bus. He kisses David on the cheek, just for show, David knows, but it still makes him turn red and shoo Jack away, and then all he can do is obsess over it. Les just pats him on the shoulder, but Les, of course, doesn't understand.

And no one will.

So David ends up in his room with some hot chocolate, curled up on his bed at the corner of his room, counting up to one hundred then back again, then taking deep breaths, then thinking _I can't really do this can I do this? I can't do this_  and on and on and on.

And he doesn't sleep again that night. And he doesn't call on Sarah, or on Les, or even on his parents. After he first gets the hot chocolate, he can't bear to leave his room. He won't call Jack, of course he won't, and he's not about to bother Kath when she's still got to bust her way out of her own home.

Up to one hundred, back again. Breathe in, five seconds, hold it, two seconds, breathe out, five seconds. Things he's done dozens of times before. Easy, easy.

They're not working, though.

_One two three four..._

Too much of his life is Jack's. Too much of everything he ever does and has ever done is due to Jack.

_One two three four..._

He needs to calm down. Deep breaths. Counting. The stress ball, the stress ball is- a rugby ball. Because Jack plays rugby.

_One two three... One two three..._

Okay then. Can't call Jack, refuse to call his siblings, can't call his friends... Well, Jack's friends...

_One two... One two three four five six...seven, six seven eight..._

And what is he without Jack, really? Not much. Before Jack, David's only friends were his siblings, and back then no one knew why he was so awkward and freaked out and scared all the time, so it was just annoying more than anything. David only became friends with Race and Spot and Mush and all that because _Jack_  was friends with them; only made friends with Katherine because Jack had given him the courage to do so.

He's only friends with Jack because Jack took pity on him; because Jack hated the Delancey brothers more than he didn't care about David.

David doesn't even know what he's panicking about now. Can't quite tell - so his life is taken up entirely by Jack; he knew this already. So his friends aren't truly his own; he knew that, too. So Jack sometimes feels like the singularly most important thing in David's life...

This, too, is nothing new.

So now David is in love with Jack; and now they are pretending to be boyfriends. And this entails hand-holding and arms round shoulders and kisses on the cheek. That's manageable, isn't it?

_One two three... One two..._

But who is David, then? If his entire life is empty without Jack, what's left of David? Is there anything?

Yes. Anxiety, and maybe too many facts and historians' views and details on every type of journalism.

But that's it. And that's not even important.

_One...two..._

So what else is there? Is there _anything_ that isn't just an impression of Jack, and his life, and his friends? Is there anything that's David, pure David, and David alone?

_One..._

There isn't, then. There's no David Jacobs, just Sarah's little brother and Katherine's friend and Jack's best friend- bestest best friend- boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend.

And that's...nothing. Strip all that away and there's nothing.

David's nothing.

He's always been nothing.

No. He doesn't sleep again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((can u guess what hamilton song i was listening to at the end.... hint: it involves lots and lots of suffering, but in french))
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ u kno where i'll be
> 
>  
> 
> ......suffering
> 
> anyway, things i am concerned abt: pacing, characterisation, ann. be kind, be chill, listen to the hamilton cast recording which is!!! coming out today oh my god!!!!!!! <3 peace


	4. it's not going well for jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack gets some bad news and goes on to make bad decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of this is: how obvious can i make it that i've been listening to the hamilton cast album on repeat for the past week.
> 
> so u kno. alcohol, more spot & crutchy & jack action, museum trip, poor handling of various situations. lots of fun. i'd say more but im listening to what comes next and it's. very good.

When Jack returns home after the entire debacle with Davey and Ann, he finds Spot in the living room, the Top 40 playing on TV whilst he types absent-mindedly at his laptop. Already, Jack knows something is off, because if Spot can help it, he will always be found in his own room. Jack looks around some more: no Crutchy, so he must be in his room; dirty dishes left by the sink, which is odd because Spot always cleans up after himself; and then Jack sees it.

It's a sealed letter, sitting on the coffee table, which is devoid of the usual clutter.

Spot's eyes are grim.

"Letter came fir ye," he says, and Jack only inhales carefully.

"Evening post?" he asks casually, stepping further into the room and curling a hand round the phone in pocket.

"Personally delivered," Spot counters, voice bland. "Miss McNeil."

Jack blinks, barely stops his jaw from dropping.

"Give that over," he mutters, rushing over, grabbing the letter, then making for his room.

Then on second thought, lurching back to the fridge and grabbing a beer - then another...and then a third.

And then he goes to his room, and he knows Spot doesn't care; Spot's already calling Racetrack.

He takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes to the side of his room. He shuts his curtains, changes into something more comfy, then sits cross-legged on his bed. He places the letter square in front of him.

He stares at it for three seconds, then brings the beer up onto the bed, and checks his phone. Nothing from Davey, a few things from Mush, a dozen memes on the group chat. Something from Sarah thanking him for taking Les with him to Ann's.

Ann's... Yes, Jack deviated from the script; he thought it sounded more convincing, anyway... Jack wonders, briefly, if this is hurting Dave more than Jack can see - Davey had fallen asleep, he hadn't slept all last night, obviously...

But he gets insomnia. It doesn't have to be because of this. Doesn't have to be because of Jack needing something to fend off Ann.

Ann... Perhaps she's gotten a letter, too. Perhaps it was delivered to her right after Jack had left...

No, if that had happened, she'd have called him. Warned him.

He cracks open the first beer, slides a finger through the seal on the letter, and starts reading.

The top of the page is emblazoned with the symbol that makes him sick to his stomach: _Victim Notification Scheme_.

And this...is not the type of thing he wants to be notified of.

He almost rips the letter apart, like all the rest - then he chugs a beer and tries to pull open his usual drawer for this, but it gets stuck, and Jack pulls and pulls and skids the chest of drawers across the floor before he gives up and crumples the letter on top of it.

Then he chugs the second beer and gets to his feet.

Spot's hissing on his phone, and Jack demands, "You get anythin'?"

But Spot shakes his head. "Naw." For once, Spot's eyes are sympathetic. "She said- said my man fucked up. Got 'imself stuck."

Jack grits his teeth together. "Lucky," he says, then raps on Crutchy's door. "You?" he asks when Crutchy calls in reply.

Crutchy's frowning when Jack opens the door. "I did," he said. "She's dead. Imagine that."

Crutchy's got a few beers too. Jack raises his third to him, and tosses it back.

"Bad news, huh."

"Four weeks."

Crutchy shakes his head. "He won't find you."

"Aye."

Jack returns to his room, digs up his the bottle of whisky stashed down the side of his bed, and finishes the bottle.

He still wakes up in the morning. That's something, at least.

\--

He goes to work. It's a normal day, right? So what, he buys more whisky. So what, he drinks throughout the day. Spot does that every other week. That shit is normal. It's a cold country. People drink more when it's cold.

As long as he doesn't fuck up during work, right? And he doesn't. He keeps working, all throughout his breaks. He can't handle the thought of food, so he works and works and Spot calls on him a few times, but he doesn't push Jack.

Even Spot knows that's dangerous.

 _Four weeks_. That's a long time.

That's not a long time.

They won't find him, anyway. He's Jack Kelly. He has no parents. His only living relative is Ann. He lives on his own, he goes to art school, he's fake boyfriends with his bestest best friend.

But if Jack is found... And, unlikely as it is, Jack is found with _Davey_...

No, oh no. Jack can't let that happen. Fuck knows what'll happen to Jack, to Davey... Fuck knows Davey can't know anything about this, this has been Jack's secret for years and years - legally bound secret. Spot and Crutchy don't even know the details. Davey can't know, he really can't... Davey would never trust him again.

Surely Davey would understand.

But Jack would have to tell him everything, and Jack can't tell him everything. Not unless he wants to chase Davey away forever...

No, Jack won't be found. He's Jack Kelly now.

And a lot of things can change in four weeks. Maybe Katherine will be free by them - maybe she'll take them to her house on the coast, and they can all stay there, hidden, till the storm passes.

What if the storm never passes?

 _No_. Jack won't be found. He can't be found. It isn't allowed.

Jack works nine till five, of course, and he and Spot slouch back to the flat together. They're halfway there when Spot complains, "Race says he's been texting you with no response the past hour? Check your phone, eejit."

Jack had forgotten about his phone; for eight hours, had forgotten there existed a world outside Jack and the letter and the work.

He turns it on, waits a ridiculously long time, and then messages and missed phone calls and texts start pouring in. Jack lifts his brows; Spot glances at the screen with a scowl.

"The hell, Jack?"

So Jack parses through everything; the usual crap from the boys, some shit from Ann, some shit from some shits, and eventually he gets a story.

"Oh, god," he says. Then he reads the text, and says, "Oh god."

Spot looks at him, then at the screen, then says, "Oh god."

"God, I- Spot, I gotta go-"

"You sure? Last night-"

" _Fuck_ that-"

"The letter, Jack-"

" _Fuck_  the letter, Spot!"

Spot shakes his head. "You canna hold your drink like me, Jack."

"I gotta see him, Spot. Him and Les both."

"Sarah will get Les. Don't you go near him when you've been drinking, Jack."

Maybe Spot didn't mean it like that, but those words freeze Jack to the bone.

"I shouldnae go."

"I didnae say that. See Davey, then; leave Les to Sarah. Talk tae 'im when yer sober."

"This is my fault."

"Says who?"

Jack shakes his head. "Some boyfriend, eh? I'll go see him- right now, Spot, I gotta go right now."

Spot shrugs. "Text me."

Jack nods and splits immediately, and just like the other day, he ends up sprinting to the Jacobs home, except this time he goes the whole way. The parents won't be home; they both work till late; Sarah must've gotten a message from Les and gotten off work - usually she's on till seven or eight. And Davey... Davey was supposed to see Denton today. Davey had his alarms all ready, he'd shown Jack, to wake himself up in enough time to make himself presentable and to get to Denton's firm on time.

Did Davey not sleep again? Did something happen? Davey hadn't seemed very worked up when he'd hopped off the bus, but Jack is so blind, Jack misses everything...

"Oh, _Jack_ ," Sarah says when he finally appears. He's been so distracted, his music wasn't even playing.

"Sarah," he says. "I'm sorry- work-"

"You've been _drinking_?"

Jack says, "We all got our problems."

Sarah's face crumples, but she doesn't cry. "Oh, god. Les found him. He's so upset, Jack - he says Davey promised him he'd tell him if he had any problems."

"He said anything yet?"

"Sleeping, still. We didn't...want to wake him up."

"Fuck, Saz."

"I don't understand... This hasn't happened since- since before you got him that dumb rugby ball, right? And it was _right_  there, but he didn't..."

Jack itches for the flask in his pocket. He asks, "Mind if I?"

She shakes her and and steps to the side, and he races up the stairs and lets her shut the door behind him.

David's room is dark as it can be with the sun shining through the curtains. He's under his duvet, so Jack can't see the damage yet, but he can see his face. Lines, at the corner of his eyes, and between his brows. Dark purple bags beneath his eyes - no, he didn't sleep last night.

What kicked it off? David says sometimes it's nothing. But there are so many things it could be... Maybe he started overthinking the dinner with Ann? The questions she asked, the way she and Les spoke of their relationship? Was it something Jack did? Letting him sleep, holding him close...kissing his cheek? Jack wanted to be convincing.

If Jack looks closely, he can see little specks of blood dotting the walls David's bed is against.

He drinks more. Not a good friend, not a good boyfriend. Why bother pretending, huh?

So he sits himself on the floor, back against David's bed. No, this hasn't happened in a long time. This is clearly Jack's fault, because Jack's the one that screwed in David's life.

He's not sure how much time passes. His mind flickers from Davey to the letter to work to drink, drink, not enough drink.

What drinking could lead to.

The letter.

Davey, waking up, and saying, "Jack?"

His voice wavers, in a way unfamiliar to Jack, so Jack simply says, "Davey?"

"Jack," Davey says again, and Jack pushes himself up, so he's sat on the edge of David's bed. There's something different in his eyes; almost wild, bordering on unhinged, weirdly... Something in Davey's eyes like maybe he doesn't really think Jack's real. "Jack."

"Yeah, Davey, it's me."

But Davey asks, bizzarely, "Is it? Or is it me? Jack... Who am I without you? Am I anything? Jack. Am I anything?"

Oh. So this must be it. "Davey," Jack says, trying to sound soft without sounding drunk. "You scared the hell outta us."

"Everything is like you - why is everything about you?"

"Davey-"

"I would've used the stress ball but it was a gift from you; and I couldn't call anyone because you're their first choice, not me; and I couldn't count, I couldn't keep count..."

"Davey," Jack says, and he definitely sounds drunk. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I'm nothing without you. I'm nothing. And I- what time is it, Jack? I couldn't sleep."

Jack doesn't want to check his phone and say it, but Davey's eyes are still strange so Jack replies, "It's seven p.m., Dave..."

"Wednesday."

"Yeah, Davey."

"I didn't go- I didn't go-"

"Denton called Saz. She..."

"No."

"Les came home. He..."

"Oh."

"He says you promised him, Davey."

" _Oh._ "

"Tell me what happened."

But Davey won't look at him right. "What happened to you?"

" _Davey_ -"

"You told me to not let you around anyone if you started drinking during the day."

"I did?"

"You were drunk."

Jack shakes his head. "What happened? Sit up, baby, let me have a look."

"My name's Davey."

"I said that."

"You didn't."

"Sit up. Tell me what happened."

Jack moves closer as David sits up against the bed. As he does so, the duvet slips down to his waist; he's wearing a t-shirt, and along his arms are tiny circular plasters, light scratches, pink crescents.

" _Davey_. The stress ball was right here."

David won't look at him, though; instead, he looks at his hands, assesses his fingernails.

" _Davey_!"

But David stays quiet. _Jesus_. Jack gives up the pretense, digs into his pocket for the flask and takes another drink. What a shitty, terrible, no-good day. He hasn't eaten, he's existing on whisky, and he might be found-

He won't be found.

And David had some kind of situation last night, and he didn't tell anyone, and now he's refusing to speak to Jack.

Fucking typical, right.

He drinks some more.

"What's wrong with _you_ , Jack?" David asks finally.

"S'nothin'."

"You don't drink whisky. You don't drink anything harder than beer."

"An'?"

"And so obviously something happened if you're drinking whisky during the day."

Jack lets out a laugh, a harsh _ha_. "Aye? Aye, somethin' happened - I get a shit ton a texts from _your_  siblings tellin' me you've freaked out over the night an' Les had to find you _bleeding_ , unconscious, on your bed. Aye, somethin' happened, alright."

David flinches.

" _Tell me_."

And so David says, in the smallest voice Jack's ever heard from him, "What am I without you?"

Jack cocks his head, drinks, and stays quiet.

"Jack. Do you know? Does anyone? Am I anything without you?"

Jack doesn't necessarily understand the questions, but he knows they're going in a bad direction - David's breathing is speeding up, his eyes are beginning to dart around, his hands are fidgeting.

Taking David's hands in his own, Jack says, "Count with me."

"I can't, Jack, I couldn't reach ten-"

"One two three four-"

"One two three four..."

"-five six seven eight nine."

"...five six seven eight nine."

"Good."

So they start again, and then they keep going, up to one hundred and back.

"You alrigh'?"

David looks at him properly, finally. "A little," he replies. "Sorry."

"Don' be sorry. Tell me."

"...I think I'm having an identity crisis." He pauses, frowns, then adds, "I haven't even called Denton..."

"Denton called Saz. He knows."

Davey shakes his head. "I think I need to have a shower. My head is... I need to think."

Jack stands and lets David off the bed, sitting right back down on it once Dave is up. Dave pauses, "You'll wait?"

"Duh."

So David disappears to the bathroom, and Jack loiters on his phone in the dark on Davey's bed, still occasionally sipping from his flask. He knows he needs to stop. Soon, he needs to stop soon...

Anyway, time passes, and frankly Jack's not entirely sure how much, but eventually David reappears with wet hair and his trackies on, and he clutches his towel to his chest but Jack still watches the nobs in his spine move when he ducks down to get another t-shirt out his drawer.

Davey has a bunch of freckles on his back. But Davey doesn't exactly prance around shirtless, so Jack's never gotten the chance to draw constellations with them, which Jack thinks is a bit of a shame.

"Feelin' better?"

"A little. You?"

"Oh, aye." Jack raises the flask, but David only frowns, so he refrains from another drink. "Baby, Davey, tell me what's up."

"I did. I..."

Oh, right. He did. Jack had...forgotten?

"What makes ya think you're havin' an ident'y crisis?"

David's eyes shift to Jack, only for a second, before he curls up his fingers and says, "Maybe we should talk when you're sober."

" _Baby_ -"

"You can't even get my name right. Why _aren't_  you sober, Jack, you didn't answer me before."

"We all got problems."

"You can't just keep _saying_ that and expect me to just forget about it."

"It's no one's business."

"We're bestest best friends."

Jack shakes his head. "I cannae tell ya, Davey. Got some bad news, okay?"

"Well, what is it? Tell me, tell me how I can help."

"Ya cannae," Jack says, and smiles. "Sweet a ya to offer, though."

" _Jack_."

"Look," Jack says. "Ya know how no one ever bothers Spot 'bout _his_ issues?" Davey nods. "Well it's like that. Alright?"

David frowns, the lines around his eyes and between his brows digging in further. "Drinking isn't the solution."

Jack lifts a finger, pressing down on Davey's forehead as if he can smooth out the lines, ease the confusion. "Sure it is."

"Jack, come on."

He ignores Davey, of course, drifting fingers across Davey's face till his his hand lands on Davey's jaw and he presses his thumb against the lines round Dave's left eye, noting that even in the dark he can make out sparks of that ridiculous blue.

"...Jack, what are you doing?"

Jack's fingers aren't easing any confusion; he pulls away, right back, then pushes himself further onto Davey's bed until he's against the wall.

"Talk to me," he requests. "Tha's how ya can help."  
  
So Davey sits on the edge of the bed, crosses his arms, and talks to him. He doesn't talk about whatever happened over the night, or his concerns about Denton and Les; instead, he meanders from topic to topic: spending time with Sarah and Les the other night, a skype call with Kathy, going to the coast with their friends, going to Italy with Jack. He talks and talks, and Jack listens as intently as he can, absent-mindedly swigging back the whisky until the flask is empty. He's not sure if Davey notices; Davey keeps speaking, voice going soft lest his throat dries out. Every now and then he pauses and says, "Jack?"

Jack says, "I'm 'ere, Davey."

And it's not that Jack stops listening; it just gets difficult to focus. The alcohol softens his mind, maybe, and Davey's words all melt together, washing over him, each wave taking him further and further out to sea.

Jack falls asleep, drunk and angry, on David's bed; he wakes up sober, angrier, and he leaves instantly.

He leaves a note, though.

\--

Work is worse than usual; Jack had no time to change once he'd left Davey's, and thus he's still in the same clothes as yesterday, hungover and hungry. Spot passes him a cereal bar and some water when Jack finally turns up, barely on time. Spot's brows are pulled tighter than usual; his scowl is darker, his fisted hands stuck in his hoodie pocket.

Jack didn't text him back yesterday.

"Shit, mate," Jack gets out before Spot's fist is raised and hurtling towards his face. Jack flinches back, his instincts reacting before his brain - when he opens his eyes, Spot's pulled away, punching the wall himself, then slamming his fist into his palm, shaking his head.

" _Shit_ ," Spot grinds out. "Shit, Jack. The fuck happened to you?"

"Nothin' happened, Spot, I just forgot, alright?"

" _Forgot_? You get that letter, you get _mad fuckin' drunk_ , you go out to Davey's an' you didnae bother _textin'_  me. _Jack_."

"Sorry, alright? Davey kept askin' what was wrong, I got distracted, wanted to make sure 'e was okay."

Spot's cleverer than he gives himself credit for, though; his eyes catch on the flask in Jack's pocket and he whips it out, shaking it and hearing silence.

"Aye. That all ya did?"

Jack looks away. "Am _sorry_." He clenches his own hands; still trembling, a little, from Spot's actions before. "Davey's havin' some kinda _identity_ crisis, didnae wanna talk to me about. He tried ta ask about me _problems_ , Spot, I coudnae let 'im know. I had to...block it out _somehow_."

Spot's eyes are unimpressed. "You _text_  me," he states. "You _always_  text me if ya go out drinkin'. I don't care if it's just to Davey's - he ain't the most reliable after that kinda shit neither, aight?" He sniffs the flash. "An' _whisky_? That aint just bad. That's _dangerous_ , an' we both know it."

Jack only shakes his head and mutters, "Nothin' happened." He finally hangs up his leather jacket on a peg. Spot's gearing up for further questioning, but before he can get another word out the door slams open and their supervisor strides in.

"The hell you dain in 'ere? Yer jobs started _ten minutes_  ago, lads, get tae it and I won't say a word."

The man looks them both in the eye, stepping to the side and holding the door open. Spot's eyes narrow at Jack before he shoves past and heads left. Jack ducks his head, mutters a quick cheers, then goes right, to his own job. He doesn't see Spot for the rest of work, but he does get an angry barrage of texts from Race when he returns home and plugs his phone in. Race - his best friend, Spot's boyfriend - sends him a nice long rant about worrying them all. Then, as an aside, asks about Davey.

_call him urself. hes not telling me whats up xxxxxxx_

_nooo waaaaayyyyyyyy xxxxxxxxxx_

_i know :/ xxxxxxxxxx_

_i cannot believe our parents r setting such a terrible example for us all. what kind of family doesn't communicate xxxxxxxx_

Jack rolls his eyes, long used to Race and a few others referring to him and Davey as their parents.

...Good lord, how did he not notice people thought he and Dave were together.

_m8 im just as confused as u r. ive asked saz 2 talk 2 him tho xxxxxxxx_

_omg well i hope mummy and daddy get back 2gether soon!!! in the meantime i guess spot and i will be honourary parents xxxxxxxx_

_soz that goes to kath and saz_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _xxxxxxxx_

_what kind of traitorous bff..... x x x_

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  _x x x x_

And that's how that ends. Except sort of not, because then Race takes a screenshot of the last couple messages and puts it on the group chat to complain about it.

Jack's all set to spend the rest of the evening in his room, glowering at anyone who enters and playing the old classics on his record player, when Crutchy bangs on his door and asks, "You ready to go out?"

Jack tilts his head and asks, "Go where?"

Crutchy laughs, shakes his head, and says, "Museum, _numpty_. We're meeting up at the entrance at seven. Which is, uh...in _ten minutes_. Spot's riding us in, you know."

"Aw, shit," Jack mutters, and springs up from his bed to change his shirt, grab his keys and wallet, then traipse out the close to find Spot and Crutchy waiting in the car.

It's quiet, for once, since Jack and Spot are ignoring each other. Jack imagines that Crutchy can guess why they're not speaking, so insteads he fiddles around with his ipod until a song starts blasting through the speakers.

Spot groans instantly, causing Crutchy to cackle; Jack briefly recalls the numerous choir practices Race dragged them all to singularly to learn the harmonies to this song.

It's Bohemian Rhapsody.

"Shit," Jack whispers from where he's lounging in the back.

Spot shakes his head, but when the lyrics start, he's singing tenor as always. Jack takes bass, and every now and then Crutchy adds in a little falsetto for good measure. Jack yells out the instrumental; Crutchy animates every lyric with his body; and Spot headbangs to the beat, never taking his eyes of the road.

The song loops, and they're still right into it when they pull up in the car park at the museum; even after Crutchy unplugs his ipod, he keeps playing the song, almost inaudible beneath three young men singing it with everything they've got.

Anyway, their friends have mostly congregated before the entrance: Sarah harmonises beautifully with perfect soprano the second they're within earshot; Race starts beatboxing; Davey smiles, and Jack grins back when he gets his breath back.

The rest of their friends have pitched up when the song winds down again; those who didn't sing applaud dutifully, whilst ringleaders Jack, Spot, and Crutchy take their bows.

Race gives Spot an enthusiastic kiss the second they finish, and Jack only rolls his eyes and sidles over to Davey.

"Hey, Davey," he murmurs softly, not without Sarah casting him a sharp glance. David holds up his right hand and manoeuvres a few fingers; after a moment, Sarah nods, ruffles his hair, and starts ribbing Romeo for not participating before. "We alright?"

David looks at him carefully, reaching down and tugging on his hand as the group moves inside the museum. "Yeah. Sort of. For now."

Jack sticks out his tongue.

"Can we talk later?"

"About what, Davey."

"What happened last night. You were drunk-"

" _You_ were panicking."

David nods. "I know we have problems. I'll... I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Jack studies David for a moment - he's in a long-sleeved shirt, top buttons undone, likely Sarah's doing; his eyes are still a little bloodshot; he holds Jack's hand so tightly.

Jack says, "I _can't_ , Davey."

"Tell me _why_ -"

"I can't! I would if I could. I'm-" Jack sighs through his nose. Their friends are looking at the museum map, discussing where they should go. "I can't explain it to you. Not even Spot and Crutchy really know. It's bigger than you know; I'm not _allowed_  to tell you."

Davey's brows crease, and he moves fractionally closer. " _Jack_ ," he says, sounding even more worried than before. "What does that _mean_ -"

"Am sorry for doing what I did yesterday; you didnae deserve to deal with me like that. But telling you puts you in _danger_ \- you know I cannae have that."

"What on _earth_  could possibly put me in _danger_?"

Jack shakes his head. "Please let's leave it alone, Davey. I hate it, I really do."

David nods, but his lips are frowning. "But _can_  we talk? Later."

"Yeah, Davey," he says, squeezing David's hand. "Later."

They merge back into the group, where they've honed out a plan of action - Les is digging around his backpack, and he yanks out a flood of white sheets.

"Les?" Davey asks.

Les beams at everyone and announces, "Sazzy and I make _booklets_  for everyone!"

Dave blinks. Jack nudges him and says, "Hey, your siblings are pretty great."

Dave doesn't reply; Les delivers one booklet to them personally. "So you can work together," Les says, "and to save the trees. Now you can actually take part for once, Davey."

"Les," Dave mumbles, "you didn't need to-"

"You better chop-chop, everyone else is already off and there's a time limit!"

Sarah smiles at them as she comes to Les' side. "Go ahead," she says. "We'll be around. Meet back in the cafe - you've got one and a half hours."

Jack nods. "We'll do the best we can, Sarah."

"I know you will."

Jack drags David off before he can splutter anymore; they regard the booklet with care, and it's not long before they're pulling each other to the correct areas, occasionally passing a few friends and taunting them. They're the perfect pair for this, of course - Jack, now that he's attending art school, has real in-depth knowledge of a fair amount of the work here; any academics he doesn't know Davey usually does, and between the two of them, they're able to work out the clues and riddles till they're back in the cafe, half an hour early.

They order drinks and join Sarah and Les, who grin and clap when Davey and Jack come to join them.

"Why aren't I surprised," Sarah says, taking the booklet from them and digging out an answer scheme and red pen, believably.

"We have this kinda thing down to a _fine art_ ," Jack says, grinning and winking whilst David rolls his eyes.

Sarah begins marking the booklet; Les and Davey are chatting quietly about their days. Luckily, they managed to grab a table with one of those semi-circle booths, so Jack decides to borrow David's shoulder for a bit and promptly fall asleep. No alcohol necessary.

He's shaken awake sometime later; the whole crew is here, but they're all standing up, grabbing jackets, bags, or people. As Jack wakes up a little more and they shuffle to the exit, Davey whispers, "We won."

Jack, still half-asleep, mutters, "Of course we did."

They're done for the evening, it seems - some of their friends have school in the morning, after all, so there's no hanging around someone's house til the wee hours. Instead, the younger ones start saying their goodbyes and running off in twos and threes to catch trains, buses, or hitch a lift of someone's mum.

The older ones linger for a while. For Jack, returning home inevitably means returning to the damn letter, so he tries to stick around his friends as long as he can, this time - talks individually with Race and Mush and Boots, making sure they're okay and busying themselves this summer. He has a good chat with Les, because apparently Les has been missing him, then with Sarah, exacting the details of the party tomorrow evening. Then he doddles around Davey, because he can and because he knows it will solidify their 'relationship', just before they pack into their cars, or split up into people gettings trains ad buses and what-not.

"Is something wrong, Jack?" Davey asks when it becomes quite clear Jack's loitering.

"No, nothing," Jack lies, "just seein' what's up with you."

Yes, it's to avoid the letter, but partially also to avoid Spot, who's lurking in the corner of Jack's vision with Race, alternating between glaring at Jack, rattling his car keys, and navigating kisses from Race.

David can see him too, though.

"Did something happen with you and Spot?" he asks, because he can't leave anything alone.

Jack shakes his head. "A bit mad I didnae text him, is all. Don't worry. We'll sort it." He glances at Spot again, then shuffles closer. Boyfriends like to be all up close with each other, don't they? Look at Race and Spot, after all. " _We'll_ sort it too, right? Come round early. 'Fore the party."

David's brows crease and he looks away. "Jack, I don't think... I might not go."

"Aw, _Davey_. You've nothin' ta worry about. Just the usual troops, give or take. If ya want, I can ask everyone ta stay out my room. Give you a space to chill."

It's still a little cold out - the heat flared up in May, and now it'll probably cool off for a couple more weeks, and David's shivering. Jack drapes an arm round his waist and checks his phone whilst he waits for Davey to reply.

David's quiet for a moment, thinking about it, and even though the entire squad, bar Kath, is _here_  and able to actually talk to each other, the group chat is already up another fifty-three messages. God, why does no one ever shut up?

When Jack checks the messages he realises the majority of them are complaining about the 'ridiculous PDA' of him and Davey, and Race and Spot.

Sarah and Kath have put in a few crying emojis.

David's peeking at the screen when Jack reaches the end of the messages, so Jack says, "Well?"

David sighs and says, "Yeah, I'll go. Are Snipes and Boots going?"

Jack shakes his head. "Nah. Feels a little weird for school kids to come to a proper party of mostly uni people, you know?"

"So they can hang with Les."

"Aye."

"Yeah, sure, okay. That's fine. I'll be round early. Maybe figure out how to cheer Sarah up."

Jack frowns in sympathy, catches Sarah on her phone, texting at a rapid speed. "She missing Kath, ay?"

"Kath, and all her other friends, too. I mean, she has Snipes and Smalls and us but...she really thought it would take Kath like, a week max to break out of her place. It's already been a fortnight..."

Jack nods. "Yeah, we can talk about it. Talk to Spot. He knows about shit like that."

"Good," David breathes out. "That's good."

"Hey Davey," Jack says after a moment's silence, realising that everyone's beginning to head off. "We've made up, right?"

David shrugs.

" _Davey_."

"We're talking _tomorrow_ , aren't we?"

"Am I gonna hafta pull out the make-up hug?"

" _Jack_ , don't do it Jack, we haven't made up yet-!"

Jack hugs him anyway, grinning as he grabs David round the waist and rests his chin on David's shoulder, holding still as he waits for Dave to ease into it. He always does, of course which Jack thinks is a miracle, considering he's not keen on surprise hugs from anyone else. Davey's hands eventually find their way to Jack's back, as always, and Jack can feel him sigh against him, before punching Jack's back, just once.

"I hate you," David mutters. "We haven't made up yet."

"We _won_ , though."

"Of course we did." David's not shivering anymore, thankfully; he's made himself quite at home against Jack, taking deep, easy breaths, unafraid to stay close. They don't say much for a moment longer, until Les yells something ad David says, "We need to go, don't we?"

"Yeah we do," Jack says. "Spot's gonna kill me. Wait-" he says when Davey tries to move away. Whispering, he adds, "The cheek kissing should be a thing, right? We've done it once before."

"True."

"So, I dunno. It's like, cute PDA without being gross, right?"

"I guess?"

"So who kisses who, this time?"

Davey sighs, then says, "Let me. You did it last time."

"Okay." He pulls away, still smiling, then says again, "Okay. I'll see ya tomoz, aye?"

"Of course," Davey replies. "Text me when you're almost done with work, and I'll come round."

Jack nods, and there's a moment of hesitation - the tiniest glint of fear in Davey's eyes - before Davey's fingers slip through his and he tilts his head up, a quick dry peck to his cheek that makes him grin harder.

Spot's groaning loudly in the background, Race and Sarah laughing.

Jack can't just let Davey get the last word in though. As Davey tries to step away, Jack brings their entwined hands together and kisses the top of Davey's, prompting Dave to roll his eyes and say, "Get off, _idiot_ , I have to go home now."

"Aw, an' I thought we were somethin' special, Davey."

" _Very_ special, Jack," Davey replies, waving one last time before he falls in line with Sarah, who immediately latches on his arm.

Jack watches them for a moment, before Race says his own goodbyes and a crutch wacks his leg. "Hey!" Jack exclaims." Crutchy, _what_  have I _ever_ done to deserve this-"

"Let's go _home_ , Jack, Spot wants to watch his shows."

Jack snorts as they return to Spot's shit car. "What shows are even _on_  right now, Strictly and Bake Off finished _ages_  ago, X Factor isn't even good anymore, and Apprentice hasn't been on in several years."

"Big Brother, Jack, ya fuckin' numpty," Spot spits back. "You spent so long fuckin' around, we only get ten minutes to get there before it starts."

Jack wants to roll his eyes, but he catches Spot gripping the wheel tighter than usual, and decides to keep his trap shut. It's only after Crutchy's door slams shut and the engine gets going that anyone says anything.

"Hey, Jack," Crutchy begins, "didn't see ya this morning."

Okay, so they're doing this. Jack decides to get a bit more comfortable, shifting and squirming around in the back until he's on his stomach along the seats, his legs against the window and his head in his arms.

"Aye," Jack says. "I stayed the night at Davey's."

"Didn't text us or nothin'."

"I didn't."

"Got us a bit worried," Crutchy finally says. "Maybe you should think about maybe not doing that next time."

"Who says there's fuckin' gonnae be a next time?" Spot lashes out. Jack shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to see how white Spot's fingers are round the wheel. " _Huh_?"

"Shit, we didn't mean it like that, Spot-"

"No," Spot mutters viciously. "No, it aint happening, there's no gonnae _be_  a next time. We have _rules_  about this, Jack-"

"Aye, we have rules," Jack retorts, turning his head so his voice is heard clearly. "Like, when Spot gets angry we keep all breakable objects away from him, and, _oh yeah_ , don't let him drive! How 'bout the rule where we _don't yell_ around Crutchy?"

Lowering his voice, Spot shoots back, "Then how's about no letting you drink any a the hard stuff? Drinkin' it round _Crutchy_ , let alone your boyfriend who has no _fuckin'_  clue about any o' this! An' speakin' a drinking, how 'bout that no smoking rule? That sure lasted long."

"I _gave that up_ ," Jack counters heatedly, curling his own fists up for fear someone might see they're shaking. "But if ya care that much, why don't you bring it up with _your_  boyfriend, huh?"

"Race isn't part of this," Spot hisses. "Am no gonnae tell him what to do with his life."

"Aye, but it's okay if it's me-"

"Aye, it _is_ -"

" _No_ , Spot, ya cannae spit rules in my face if ya don't follow 'em yourself-"

" _Guys_!"

Spot and Jack shut up instantly. Spot idles the car as they reach a traffic light, and look to Crutchy, who's staring at his lap, hands over his ears.

He never raises his voice.

Jack knows if Spot lets go of the wheel, he'll hit something; carefully, he sits up and lays a hand on Crutchy's arm - long enough for him to know they're not yelling anymore.

"Crutchy," Jack says.

"Shit," Spot mutters, and Jack suspects that the person he'd hit would be himself. "Crutchy, we didnae _mean_  to-"

"We're sorry, shit, Crutchy, we're not mad at you, not at _all_."

Crutchy shakes his head. "I know," he says, but his voice is very quiet and shaky and like no, maybe he doesn't know.

"We're just bein' eejits, Crutchy, ya know how it is. Ya know I was mad worried after Jack never replied or nothin'."

"I know," Crutchy repeats, sounding a little surer this time. "Couldn't you just _say_  that instead of getting angry at each other?"

Jack hangs his head.

Spot directs his eyes on the road as the lights turn amber.

"Aye," Jack finally says. "But ya know what we're like-"

"I _do_ ," Crutchy says, "and I'm tired of it. It's not hard to have a civil conversation."

They stay quiet for some time, until Spot finally gives in. "You're right. What d'ya want to say?"

Crutchy takes a deep breath, then drops his hands into his lap and entwines them, leaning his head back against the seat so he can stare out the window shield. "I want to say," he begins, "that it was irresponsible of Jack to run off to the Jacobs' half-drunk, and then, if Spot is to believed, keep drinking whilst dealing with his boyfriend's panic attack. So that was stupid. It also worried the two of us when you, Jack, didn't text us, reply to our texts, or answer our calls. Spot had to call Sarah to make sure you were okay - at that point you and Davey had fallen asleep. It's ridiculous that we had to contact an outside source for information on your whereabouts, and to ascertain whether you'd be returning at all that night. Finally - you didn't even come home this morning. Straight to work. I'm shocked Spot didn't actually kill you when he saw you."

"He tried," Jack mutters, then, trying to sound as sincere as possible, he adds, "I'm _sorry_ , lads."

Crutchy nods but doesn't look at him. "Now, Spot - it's downright _lazy_  of you that you didn't accompany Jack to make sure he went to Davey's, and also that you didn't figure out he had a flask on him and take it away. Second of all, I don't _care_  how angry you were, how irresponsible Jack acted - none of that. We _don't_ try to hit Jack, okay? We _don't do_ that. You have a punching bag _in your room_  to deal with excessive anger. In a similar vein," Crutchy continues, straightening his back and taking another deep breath, "we don't _yell_ when _I'm_  around. Both of you. Okay? If you _must_ , at least wait till I'm out. If you can't stand to talk to each other, at least tell _me_  what's going on. Now, what are we gonna do in future?"

Jack mutters, "Not drink."

Crutchy snorts, "Be realistic."

" _Try_  not to drink as much. Don't go out and drink whisky. Make sure my phone's fully charged so I can text you or Spot when you're worried." He pauses, then adds, "Use my inside voice."

Crutchy nods. "Good. How 'bout you, Spot?"

Spot's scowling, tapping his fingers along the wheel as they reach another traffic light. Eventually, though, he mutters, "Look after drunk idiots. Stop using violence when I'm angry at people. Use my inside voice."

" _Good_. Now apologise."

Jack says, "I am sorry, Spot. I didnae mean to worry you. And I didnae mean to scare ya, Crutchy."

Crutchy nods and waves it away.

Spot heaves a sigh as they get going again, and says, "It's alright. I'm...sorry, too." He screws up his nose, in case anyone was in any doubt about his reluctance to utter the word. "To you, too, Crutchy."

Crutchy bounces in his seat a little as their tenements come into view. "It's alright, lads. Now we're all gonna watch Big Brother and you're going to make me hot chocolate, aye?"

Jack rolls his eyes but grins. "Aye, sure."

"Whatever you say," Spot drawls, and together the three of them navigate the five metres from their car to the door, along the close to their flat, then Crutchy collapses on one of the sofas whilst he gets the show on and Jack and Spot sort everything else out.

So maybe it's a little dysfunctional. Jack thinks it works pretty well, anyway.

\--

Watching a shitty reality show about twelve people stuffed in a huge house had entranced Jack so much that he had completely forgotten his troubles. It's only when he returns to his room later that night, fully intent on sleep forever and ever, does he remember the letter, which is right there, because the drawer was stuck-

The drawer is still stuck, so that's great.

Jack can't resist picking it up, sitting down on his bed, and smoothing it out.

 _Mr Jack Kelly,_  it begins, beneath the logo. _We hope you are enjoying your time at the Royal Academy of Art and Design, and that you have a good summer at your residence 1/1 26 Knightsborough Lane. (If you are no longer attending/residing at these places, please contact us using the information above.)_  Which was all very well and good and nice, except then it took a new paragraph and said, _Unfortunately, we must inform you that the prisoner whom we are protecting you from is due to be released in four weeks, on the 1/07/15._

That wasn't four weeks away. Granted, the letter had been sent four weeks from then, but it had taken a while to reach him.

The first of July. That was just over three weeks away, now. The letter had gone on to reassure him that the prisoner had no knowledge of Jack's whereabouts, nor his identity, and that the government would continue to protect Jack as best they could, but still.

Still.

And he ends up staring at the letter instead of sleeping forever and ever, eyes tracing the letters without taking in any of the words.

_They're letting him out. Why the fuck are they letting him out?_

What the fuck does Jack have to do to keep him in there? What does he have to prove? God, what's more bullshit than sentencing someone a certain amount of time in jail but deciding to let them out when half the jail time is already over? Who fucking thought of that, huh?

And Spot... Shit, he dodged a bullet. Crutchy got lucky, and though none of them will phrase it like that, they all know it's true.

Jack doesn't know what to do. So he has three weeks to figure it out; will that be enough? Will Kath be out by then? Will she stick around or take them to the coast? What about Ann? Does she know? She must know. Why hasn't she called him?

Nothing has to change, he reminds himself. If the government are doing their damn job ( _unlikely_ ), then Jack won't be found. Jack _won't_  be found, and he won't have to deal with any of- that. Jack can do whatever he fucking likes and he won't have to worry because there's no damn way he'll be found.

Even still, though. Even if Jack's not found; even if he's not in danger - someone else might be. Jack can't let that happen - Jack's already gone through it all, someone _else_ shouldn't have to. Would it be a woman? A kid? Some random? Would he be drunk? He used to be drunk- when it started it was always because he was _drunk_ -

What if it doesn't matter? Spot was right, after all - Jack and whisky is a dangerous mix. What if everyone else is in danger because Jack's around, and not some prisoner who's getting out of jail, soon?

What if Jack's the threat?

He could be. He knows he could be. He's angry enough. On bad days, he gets drunk enough. He's strong enough, and he wonders if that's why his father always used to push him towards sports.

He can't be, though. He can't be like that. Not if he already knows the damage it does- the way it wrecks lives, families. Surely Jack's _better_  than that.

But that's a lie. Jack's not much better than anyone. So, he's good at art. Like that's going to get him anywhere. So he's good at sports. All that means is that he can run faster and he can hit harder. So he has lots of friends.

They don't know who he is.

No one knows, really, who he is. Not even Spot, not even Crutchy.

And certainly not David. David doesn't have any idea about Jack's life - doesn't know where he came from, what happened to his parents, why it is that he and Spot and Crutchy know each other so well.

Oh, he's asked, but Jack's never given him a straight answer. Never given him an _honest_  answer.

So Jack isn't a good friend. He's not surprised. So he's a _terrible_ friend to David - he's been over this, multiple times.

Usually he tries not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!! i do luv jack u kno. in case that was in any doubt.


	5. the fakest boyfriends ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> david putters through thursday and friday with the help of his super fake bf and his sister. also, smooches!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote, like, the last 5200 words from 5am to rn, which is 11.30am, listening to bapop, fun home, and in the heights, bc i stayed up all night due to terrible sleeping habits of my own.
> 
> in this fun chapter we explore: pushing my issues onto davey! lowkey pushing other issues onto jack. (in case u don't kno which, well, u probs wouldn't, i defs hc jack as having undiagnosed add :/ and david lowkey has sad)
> 
> also: sarah is the best sister in the world god love her but she also has problems; david is the best best best; jack is a fool yet surprisingly sneaky.
> 
> oh gosh also i forget pulling is like slang i guess for making out lmao. its sort of ambiguous the same way hooking up is i guess but u kno. at an earlier stage i guess. w/e.
> 
> also: warning for??? lowkey mentions of potential dub-con?? idk. i think it's p obvious, but it's like 5 lines tops and??? je ne sais pas. anyways. leave a note if u have any info, chat, hot goss etc and cheers for reading <3

David doesn't think he's ever seen Sarah angrier at him than the morning when Jack leaves. Not that David sees this; instead, he awakens to see Sarah dressed for work with her hair in a towel, shaking over a piece of paper that, upon seeing David awake, she thrusts in his face.

" _David_ ," she says, " _what_  on _earth_."

That's all she says for a long time; she stands, hands on her hips, as David reads through the note. It's the usual Jack fare: messy handwriting, text speak, a drawn heart, and very little actual substance.

David keeps staring at it even when he's finished reading. He doesn't want to look at Sarah; doesn't want to look at himself in the light. He can feel half a dozen tiny plasters on his arms; if he moves in the wrong way, he can feel the tiny nicks against his skin, the self-inflicted injuries he could've avoided if-

Yes, Jack was there last night. David wasn't quite in his right mind when he first turned up, but it wasn't hard to figure out when he was drunk, and it only took him ten minutes to stop hiding the flask. David doesn't quite recall falling back to sleep again: he remembers Jack slumping onto the bed in drunken stupor; remembers an awful feeling of longing and sadness and confusion; remembers staring through the half-dark at the way the sun through the curtains lit up Jack's jawline; and he thinks he must've fallen asleep around the time the sun set, because David could no longer make out any of Jack's features.

David hates that even when he was in a terrible nervous state, he still found time to worry about Jack. He _hates_  that he cares so much.

" _David_!" Sarah eventually exclaims. "I got the morning off work but I still have to go in in three hours. You need to _talk_  to me."

He puts the note down.

"I don't know what to say," he admits. "I didn't mean..."

Sarah sighs, and drops her arms. Still stern, she asks, "Are you alright now?"

David considers the topic that had fucked him over last night; and almost immediately shakes his head.

She presses her lips together, eyes going a little softer. "You really upset Les, David. Which is something, you know, we need to _talk_  about."

"I promised him..."

"Uh huh." Sarah comes to sit by him. "What's wrong? Do you want to talk about it? I have two hours to watch a shitty film with you."

"I'm scared," David says first, because it's the truest thing, and the easiest for David to wrap his head round. "I...was thinking about Jack." He's ashamed of it, almost - of course he was thinking about Jack, of _course_  he was. "I just... You remember, the other night, when you were talking about how Jack and I work together so well?" She nods. Carefully, carefully, feeling out every word and holding tight to his trackies, he says, "What if you were wrong...? What if..." He sighs, bites the inside of his lip for a moment, searching for words. "What if it is co-depency? What if..." He bundles up his trackies for a moment before letting go. Sarah isn't touching him, but her presence is solid at his side. Lest he flounders further, David blurts out, "Take Jack away and what's left of me? Sarah, is there anything?"

"Davey," she says, then pauses. "Is that what you were worried about?"

David hangs his head and shrugs. "I was just wondering," he mumbles, but he knows Sarah doesn't buy it. She knows him too well.

"You think...what, that Jack's more important than you?"

He curls a little more in on himself. "Just that...without him I'm not really... I'm not really... _anything_...is all..."

"Is that what you think?" He won't look at her; she shuffles closer, instead. "Davey. Is that really what you think?"

He shrugs again. "It's the truth," he mutters. When he peeks at her, she's shaking her head adamantly, gearing up to say something, to deny it, so David repeats, "It's the truth! Tell me it's not."

Sarah runs a hand through his hair. "It's not. Davey, whatever gave you this impression?"

He drops his head to his hands. " _Everything_. It's the truth, Saz. Think about it."

She doesn't, though. "David, please. You lived ten years without Jack."

"Yeah, and they were pretty shit," he reminds her. "The only reason it- the only reason life got better was because _Jack_  came along and fixed everything."

"He didn't." David shakes his head, and she reiterates, "He _didn't_ , Davey. Half the problem was your anxiety, remember? Jack didn't fix that; he _couldn't_. That was all you, Davey."

"It wasn't."

She sighs. "Okay, true. It was your therapist and our parents and _us_ , you know? And I know having Jack around helps when it gets bad, but that doesn't mean he _fixed_  it. And honestly, Davey, did Jack really fix anything?"

"What- what do you mean?"

"I mean...he just sort of showed up and got rid of the bullies, and then what? You became best friends? David, it wasn't that simple."

"He changed everything," David says, because as he remembers it that's true. "He made it- people didn't _talk_  to me before, remember? Then Jack became my friend and suddenly people like Race and Mush started talking to me, and no one got weird when I got all- panicky, and, I mean- I had _friends_ , Saz. It changed _everything_."

"Oh, Davey." She moves her hand to his back, her movements slow but sure. "Come here?"

And so he raises his head and instantly allows it to drop back onto her shoulder. She curls her arm round his waist, cushions her cheek in his hair. "Explain to me, then. What happened. If that's best. We can still put on a movie, Davey."

"No," he says. "I can't talk about this with Jack. I...didn't want to, but he was drunk- Saz, he was so _drunk_..."

"I know," she whispers, "but this isn't about him."

"But it _is_ ," he whines. "I... Be honest, Sarah. Take Jack away and what's left of me?"

"Is that what was worrying you?"

"Answer the question."

"Take Jack away and you're still a _person_ , Davey. Is Jack the one who aced every single test in school? Did Jack attend the country's best uni and become best friends with Kathy? Is it Jack who dreams of crossing half the world to cover the hottest stories?"

David frowns. "I suppose not," he says slowly. "But- but everything else- the only reason Kath and I are friends is because _Jack_  made me braver-"

"No, it's because you got help, Davey."

"The only reason Spot and all that like me-"

"Is because you're funny and nice and you try and look after them all?"

" _Sarah_ -"

"I'm being honest, Davey."

He scrambles, "Jack must think I'm _pathetic_."

" _How_  could you even come to that conclusion? _Davey_." He can't see her face, but he knows that tone and he knows the raised brows and the way she'd usually shakes her head that comes with it.

"It's the _truth_."

"It's the furthest thing from the truth I've _ever_  heard. Jack's half-in love with you, heavens know he'd do anything for you. You two are _dating_ , Davey! And you've literally been attached at the hip ever since you met, so none of that."

"...It's just hard to believe."

"I know."

She doesn't though, not really. Sarah was always one of the pretty popular girls, nice and funny and never struggling to make friends. She had confidence, _real confidence_ , and what did Davey have? The exact opposite. She tries her best to understand, but she won't ever. Not really.

"What about you?" he finally asks.

"Mm?"

"You've been moping lately."

"Ah. That obvious?"

"Yeah."

She sighs and presses closer to him, their position now more to comfort her than him. "I miss her, Davey. I miss her _so much_."

"I know." And he does. More than she knows his anxiety, at any rate. Katherine is _his_  best friend after all; they're texting and skyping on the regular now that they aren't seeing each other every other day. "She'll get out soon."

"I hope so," Sarah replies. "She says she's made some more progress on the PA, she _says_  a week, tops, but... Davey, I met her father, he was _scary_. I'm worried he'll..."

David stiffens a little bit, wishing Sarah wasn't clinging so tight so he could look her in the eye. As it is, he stares at his door and says, "No. He wouldn't."

"I don't know, Davey! I've never met such a homophobe before! I don't _know_  what he could or couldn't do: what if he hurts her? What if he keeps her in her room forever? What if I can't see her again? You've seen all those crazy shows, Davey, they have, like, _conversion_  camps for this shit! And people that rich are _crazy_ , I'm so scared, Davey, I want her by my side _now_!"

"Do you want to call her?"

"We can't," Sarah sighs. "She's working for her dad, and someone's watching her like, at all times."

"She'll get out," David whispers. "She's one of the smartest people we know. And when she gets out she can come and stay with us and then she'll take us to the coast, right? Then you two can be obnoxious girlfriends and make everyone feel terrible about themselves just by existing together."

"True," Sarah says. "And _you_  two can be obnoxiously smart together and make the rest of us feel terrible about our utter lack of intelligence around you."

"It'll be good," David promises. "She'll be fine."

"Yeah," Sarah says, her voice soft and wistful. "Oh, I can't wait to see her again..."

"It's only a matter of time."

Sarah's still holding him.

"Um...can you let go?"

She doesn't. "I'm touch-starved, Davey. Just stay still, okay?"

He lets out a very put-upon sigh and does as she asks. It is, he thinks, the least he can do for her, to thank her for all her help.

\--

David spends most of Thursday fixing things. Sarah goes to work at midday; Les comes home from school about four-ish, but Les won't talk to him. His parents come home an hour later, and _they_  talk things out. Between these events David shoots emails off to Denton explaining the situation and apologising and rearranging his visit to the firm for the next Wednesday. So now that's in his calendar. Denton's all very nice and understanding about it all, which takes a weight of David's shoulders, and his parents thankfully don't pry too far into _why_  David had such a bad panic attack once he's made it clear he's not comfortable discussing it.

Then he goes to the museum with his friends, and sees Jack again. Jack arrives with Spot and Crutchy, as usual - they're belting out some song, because they're _idiots_  - and then he and Jack talk. Briefly. Not in-depth. They form tentative plans to talk in-depth at a later date, but David doubts this will really come to fruition. After all, hasn't Jack just said he's not allowed to tell anyone whatever's bothering him? Did he think that was going to make David less concerned? And what, really, are the chances of Jack telling David anything? Because he never tells David anything, not really. Not about what's bothering him.

David, actually, doesn't know very much about Jack at all, except these certain facts - Jack's nineteen and goes to the Royal Academy and lives ten minutes from their old school; he lives with Spot and Crutchy and they're all good friends; his parents died when Jack was eleven, and that's why he moved to a new city and school, and why David met him.

Jack fights bullies but hates actually fighting. Jack pretended to hate art even when it was his passion. Jack...might have a drinking problem? Jack tells everyone else not to drink too much.

David tries hard to not think about it when he's out with his friends; delightfully easy, since Les and Sarah made that silly booklet, and then he spends the half hour waiting for everyone else asking the lord god if he is even _seeing_  Jack right now. Jack is, of course, very cute; but everyone is cuter when they're asleep, and it's even worse when they're on your shoulder.

Sarah teases and David's cheeks maintain a fair red for the entire half hour, but David's just glad Jack's getting some rest. Maybe that's silly.

The group ends up disintegrating bit by bit, and as more people leave David begins to see Spot glaring more and more in his and Jack's direction. Mainly Jack's. But again when David asks him about it, he's rebuffed - something about Jack not texting Spot.

It's useless to inquire further, but David tries - Jack just reels him into a hug, because he knows it shuts David up. David lets him, and takes the moment for what it is - a chance to stay close, to feel Jack against him, to know that in this moment, at least, Jack isn't going anywhere.

It feels like Jack could so easily slip through David's fingers, so David holds tight for the few seconds allowed - then longer, when Jack brings up the cheek kissing thing, and David does and doesn't want to do it, but he knows he has to. For Jack.

Not at all for himself, not at all...

Then David's leaving, and he knows Jack's not paying attention, because over Sarah's insistent questions he can hear Jack asking Spot something, can hear Crutchy laughing.

He wonders if they really will talk tomorrow. Actually, they probably will, and it'll end up with David half-carving his own heart out for Jack to examine and Jack acting like he doesn't have a heart at all. That's how it _goes_  with them - David's tired of it. David _knows_  Jack has a heart, it's _so_  obvious when they're all gathered together like this because Jack is always trying to look out for everyone. Typical, right? That Jack, perhaps the most reckless person David knows, would try to keep everyone else out of trouble.

He realises Sarah is asking him something.

"Sorry, what?" he asks. She rolls her eyes.

"Get in the car, _idiot_. You were just standing there."

Right. Because Sarah drove them here. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About Jack?" she asks once they're both seated inside. Les makes a disapproving face in the backseat.

Davey shrugs.

"Cute that you won. I honestly tried to hard to make it difficult for you two, but if I did that it would be even harder for everyone else. Dream team much."

"As if Jack was going to lose something based on _art_." He pauses, then adds, "As if _I_  was going to lose _anything_."

"Don't recall that to be the case on our last Sports Day, but whatever Davey."

"Okay, anything related to academia. Anything I know about art I know off Jack."

She grins. "It's the same for all of us, you know. Everyone was really mad you two paired off together. Also, not surprised in the slightest."

Les shakes his head in agreement.

They sit in quiet for a while - Sarah's playing Taylor Swift's newest album, because unlike _some_  people, she has taste - as Sarah drives them casually through the streets to their own home.

Eventually, David gets the courage to mutter, "Thanks, you know."

"It's alright, Davey," Sarah says.

Then to Les, he adds, "I'm sorry about...not telling you. I didn't want to- I thought-"

Les shifts his gaze away from him. "You _promised_ , Davey."

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"...Why didn't you come talk to me?"

David turns to the front again and crosses his arms. "I don't know... I didn't want to freak you out, I- it was weird, okay, I couldn't..."

He can't say anymore. Les waits, patiently, for a decent explanation, but David doesn't have a good one to give.

Sarah turns Taylor Swift up a little louder.

\--

He sleeps Thursday night through, which is a god damned relief, but he still has to power through most of Friday on coffee in order to keep his eyes open. He needs to send Denton the edited article so that it can be put to print; he needs to figure out some kind of ideas to write his own articles for; he needs to get Jack to make plans to see Medda.

After about four p.m., he starts mentally preparing for the party tonight. Sarah's going obviously, and most of their friends - none of the kids in school, which pisses Les off to no end, and probably some friends of friends, old school friends, uni friends who live here too.

So. Big party, probably. And Jack and Spot and Crutchy's isn't exactly the roomiest. Jack promised to keep his room clear, but in reality he'll end up getting drunk and forget to keep people out, and David will have to sit out in the close if he wants a moment's rest. And the close isn't exactly the prettiest, cleanest place, especially on a Friday night... Empty beer bottles, packets of crisps, the usual grime of a close in a not so well-to-do neighbourhood... David doesn't exactly like hanging out there, but all the boys end up too drunk to stop people from going in their rooms, and it's not like David can hide in the only bathroom all night.

Hopefully he won't need to hide, anyway. He's doing a four hour prep, get to Jack's for eight, talk to him for an hour or so until everyone else starts arriving. Some people will be round early; others won't start pregaming till ten, so the numbers are variable.

David's been to lots of parties at their flat. He's worked out the numbers.

Luckily, Sarah's already tossed him out an outfit before she went to work today - bless her, she knows he can't really dress for shit, though he doesn't doubt she's chosen ridiculously tight jeans and some 'edgy' shirt to emphasise his 'natural sex appeal'. He's not entirely sure he actually _has_  any natural sex appeal, but he doesn't want to look like a nerd at a party, and Sarah's got him covered. He can put that aside.

Instead, he makes lists, with some classical music playing in the background. Helps him concentrate. His first list is entitled  _things to discuss with Jack_  and thus far goes as follows: 

  1. drunkenness - whisky - during work - irregularity of drinking so heavily - drinking problem? 
  2. Spot - issues with drinking problem - looked angry - hurt Jack? - did they talk about it? - does he know? 
  3. thing Jack's hiding - what - when - originated - why won't he tell me - not allowed to tell me? - how can I help - can he get help in other ways 
  4. My problem - slight identity crisis - maybe not discuss it in detail - explain that I talked to Saz about it - not a problem anymore - haha well 
  5. Medda - see her, asshole, you need money



And it ends there with a little doodling. David considered writing _fake relationship stuff?_  for six, before immediately wondering if instead he should just write _aaaAAAA_  since that more or less conveys a similar sentiment.

He has other lists, now - what to write for Denton, more summer activities, how to deal with the Katherine situation, everything he's worried about, some of which he's currently working on solutions for. He has dozens of notebooks, now - he keeps them all on one shelf, in case he needs them - packed with lists like these. They keep him organised. Keep him on the right track. He knows everyone thinks he's so smart, but if he doesn't organise and prepare, he absolutely falls apart. He needs guidance. Rules. Something to follow, that he can understand.

Facts, even.

Maybe that's why he likes Jack so much, actually. Jack can't be contained within lists, no matter how many David makes. Jack does not comprise facts - only suggestions, potentials, a little like a painted canvas that changes its meaning every time David looks at it. Maybe it looks the same, but beneath that is a vast pit of questions and consequences, and David can only guess what they are, because Jack won't ever tell him.

Jack doesn't make lists. He lives for the moment and tries hard not to think about the future. Whatever sounds good is good for _right now_  - risks don't matter, consequences come later. David still isn't entirely sure how they became bestest best friends, let alone fake boyfriends. Everyone seems to think this was natural, but David has to wonder, has to look back on all their years of friendship and wonder how on earth it all came together like this.

Maybe it's not that David knows Jack better than anyone else; maybe it's just that Jack doesn't really tell anyone anything.

Except for David. And what he tells David is limited and usually a little confused because Jack's not all that great at feelings. Jack usually communicates by touch, anyhow, and that's the one thing David's not too good at figuring out.

Yeah. They don't really match up. Yet here they are, and once David doddles for four hours or so, he changes into what Sarah picked for him - tight jeans and edgy shirt, check - before grabbing her and his backpack and beginning the half hour journey to Jack's.

"Pregaming, Davey?" Sarah asks, her handbag clanking no doubt with half a dozen different alcohols.

"No thanks, Saz," he replies, and she only shrugs before taking out one of those tiny airplane vodka bottles from her bag and downing the thing in one go.

"Really?" he asks.

"Babe," she says, "let me live." He rolls his eyes and does as she asks. He, after all, does have a backpack filled with Rekorderlig cider for his own personal enjoyment, and maybe Crutchy's if the boys didn't buy any of their own.

Sarah's dressed very nicely, of course - a floaty skirt, a semi-transparent blouse tucked in, likely a cardigan tucked in her bag. At this hour, the sun's still shining and it is, thankfully, quite warm. Warm enough that David's almost regretting the jeans, except he knows it'll be colder later.

Everything's just a little more idyllic in summer - people are out on the streets, running, walking pets, going out for the messages; people actually sit outside cafes in the seating provided; everyone's telling everyone that the weather's lovely and to enjoy it while they can. David feels a little better with the sun shining on the bare skin of his arms, and a little safer under the sunglasses the weather allows him to wear.

Sarah, of course, blossoms in this weather - she looks perfect, and she's getting a fair few appreciative glances from the people passing by. She holds her head high, untouched by them, but David can't help but be on his guard. She lets him take her arm, giggling at whatever message has popped up on her phone.

"I convinced Kath to skype us again tonight," she chirps. "She's in for a treat, don't you think, Davey?"

"Mm, drunk uni kids getting off to bad house music in a tiny flat? Paradise."

"Exactly. She'll _love_  it."

At any rate, it doesn't feel like night time, or even evening, so walking down to Jack's, especially a little dressed up, feels safer than it ever did by August's end. That's when David really has to worry about the appreciative people.

"Hey," Sarah says as they loiter by a traffic light. "Are you gonna tell the rest of the cool kids about you and Jack? It's bound to come up, right?"

"Yeah," David mutters. "Yeah, I mean, I imagine a few will already know? Race doesn't exactly shut up, you know? And I mean... I mean, are Jack and I obvious?"

Sarah smirks. "Sure."

"Well then." The green man goes off and Sarah pushes off the lamp post she was leaning against. "I guess they'll figure out."

"Cute!" she chimes in. "Is anyone Jack knows coming?"

David shrugs. "I think so? I'm not sure, he didn't really say, but he must know a few people round here from uni, right?"

"It is _Jack_."

"Yeah."

"Think they'll be jealous of you?"

" _What_?"

" _Ooh_ , what if they start flirting with Jack in front of you? Are you gonna do any of that posturing bullshit?"

"I-? No? What? No, I'll just _tell_  them Jack's...off-limits."

Sarah giggles and pulls him a little closer. "Mm, but there are more ways to do that than with _words_ , Davey."

"What, should I write 'David's boyfriend' on Jack's face with sharpie or something? I don't think he'd take too kindly to that."

"Well, there are other ways to, ah, make your _mark_  on him, as it were."

David face flares red instantly. " _Sarah_!" he squawks, shoving her off him. The clanking bottles are masked by her uproarious cackling. "Oh my god, Saz, I- oh my god!"

"What, you haven't gotten that far? It's _Jack_ , as _if_  he didn't lay you the second you got together."

" _Saz_ -"

"He _didn't_? That just makes you _special_!"

"Sarah, oh my god, _stop_ -"

"Okay, you haven't had sex then. Is that true?"

"Sarah, were you drinking before we left, or-?"

"You haven't. Okay, that's chill, I won't judge you, Davey. But surely you've gotten past pulling, right? It's _Jack_."

"Stop acting like Jack's some- guy who just gives sex away constantly, Saz!"

"I'm not! And even if I was, there's no shame in that. But you know, he got around while we were at school. And if you didn't get together till finals, I mean...who knows what he did at uni, is all I'm saying."

" _Christ_ , Saz-"

"You know, I guess the inexperienced one here is you. Have you gotten past a pull? With anyone? Did you even pull anyone before school ended?"

" _Why_ are we having this discussion, oh my god."

Sarah takes his hand in both of hers and looks at him very seriously. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But in my experience, it's good to _talk_  about this kind of thing with people, so you know what to do when the time comes."

He frowns. "Ugh." He looks away, to the shops that line the street they're walking down. They're transitioning from their own decent neighbourhood to Jack's less-so area, and it's easy to tell in the way the glass on one of the IT shops is broken. It's been cleaned up from the ground, but the hole is still there. It's pretty big. After a while, he answers her question: "No, I didn't pull anyone before school ended, okay? No girls wanted to, you know, I think everyone knew I was gay. And some of the guys came up to me - drunk, obviously - and said I was too much of a _team mum_  for them to kiss." He pauses, reflecting, before adding, "And I guess people like Mush thought me and Jack were secretly dating."

"Wow," Sarah says. "Hey, like I said, no shame. Kath says she didn't pull before school ended either, but that's because she has _high_  standards." Sarah frees a hand to motion to herself. "Obviously. But what about at uni, Davey? You didn't say anything about that."

"Maybe for a good reason," he mutters.

" _Ooh_ , have you not been sharing your sexual exploits with your big sis?"

"Why _would_  I?"

"Why wouldn't you? Come on, tell me all about it. It's not like I'll tell anyone." She glances at her phone. "Well, maybe Kath."

" _Sarah_ -"

"Okay, maybe not! C'mon, I can't give advice without, you know, hearing the problem."

" _Problem_? Ugh, whatever Saz-"

"Okay, okay, sorry! Problematic phrasing." She winks at him, but he ignores it. "Aw, Davey, I only want to help. We still have fifteen minutes till we get there, we can't strop about in silence, now can we?"

" _Ugh_ ," he lets out. "Fine, whatever, _fine_. Mush and I went to a few parties together, uh, so... Ugh, I didn't get with _Mush_ , Sarah!" She gives him a look. "No offence to him, but...no. Just. It's just. I mean, there were a few encounters, but...it's not..."

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Davey."

"I mean, I know _that_ , it's just... Some people can do the whole one night stand thing, right? But that's not. Not what I'm into. And usually I was really drunk, or, I don't know, feeling particularly like shit, and...I mean, maybe I let a few guys push me around a bit. So it's not... I don't like to think about it much, okay?"

"Wait," Sarah says, laying a hand on her arm. They've turned a corner, and at this angle they're in the shade, but David can still make out the concern in her furrowed brows, the somberness in her lips. She's as good as sober, now, really; she'd barely been tipsy before, of course, but she'd played it up. "Wait, Davey... When you're drunk you can't consent- _Davey_ -"

"It wasn't-!" He pauses, and takes a deep breath. "It's not a big deal, okay? It was usually just pulling, or..."

"Or _what_ , Davey?"

He burns a light red, now. He wasn't lying; he really _doesn't_  like to think of it. It makes him feel stupid. He says the next sentence quickly, trying to spit the words out fast so he can move on: "Just- handies or going down on a guy, okay? It never went further- I never _let_  it go farther, okay, I was sober enough for that..."

Sarah frowns, bites her bottom lip and takes his hand tightly in her own. "How many guys?" she finally asks.

"I-I don't know. A few. Maybe- maybe it happened every month or so."

"O-oh Davey. I never knew."

"That's _fine_."

"...Didn't you like any of them? Or- any guys, in general?"

They're back in the sun, and David's glad of it. He can hide back behind his sunglasses, and he feels a little safer in the heat and light. Answering Sarah's question, he shrugs and says, "I mean... I guess there were a couple of good-looking guys, but- I love _Jack_." It doesn't occur to him as something wrong to say until Sarah gasps - he's confused even then for a moment, because he's said he loves Jack plenty of times.

But they weren't supposed to be together then.

" _Like_ ," he tags on, too late. "I- I like Jack."

"Davey," Sarah says. "Have you told him?"

He doesn't answer.

" _Davey_."

"Why does it matter? Everyone knows, it's not exactly a surprise."

"It's different than loving your best friend! I- don't want to pressure you, I- I just want to know."

He shakes his head, almost shuts his eyes at the thought of telling Jack- of _course_  he hasn't told Jack, Jack doesn't even know David actually _likes_  him in that way. "No," he says, horrified to hear that he sounds a little choked. Clearing his throat, he says, "No, I haven't told him."

Sarah purses her lips together, assessing him, before adding, "Jack loves you, too."

"Thanks, Saz," he says. "But that's not really..." He slumps his shoulders.

"I know," she says. "But, hey, you're right. That's your relationship. I won't...butt in. But- about before, Davey - are you okay? About...those guys? You said you were _drunk_."

He shakes his head. "It never got too far, trust me. Please, just...leave it alone..."

"Okay," Sarah says, swinging their hands. "Okay."

They're silent for a while, not far from the party, until Sarah gets another message and quietly, half-laughing, she explains their latest silly conversation to him, something about the communist society at uni Kath joined. It's easy to talk about, because Kath tried to convince him to join it, too, and it's apparently a hot topic of discussion at the Pulitzer estate, as well - Kath and her father went out today, apparently, and because her father was carrying her wallet, when she left her bag at some random cafe, the only way it was identified as hers was because of her copy of the communist manifesto.

"She lowkey snapchatted his reaction when he heard, Davey," Sarah tells him. "I think it's on her story?"

"Really?" he says, then checks his phone and taps on Kath's story - a shot of her about to leave, a few scenery snaps, a selfie of her and her father, and then, like Sarah said, a series of video snaps of her and her father hearing about her bag. "Oh my god. He _hates_  it."

"Look at how pleased she is, god love her." David laughs with her, knowing that surely she must be as worried as he is about what happened behind the snaps.

They don't discuss it, though. They arrive at the party - not really a party yet, of course - five minutes later, still chuckling over what they were discussing earlier, and Crutchy buzzes them in. Spot opens the door for them without them having to knock. He's got his wallet and keys in one hand, the door in the other.

"Jack's in 'is room," Spot tells David. "D'yous want anythin'? I'm about to grab a few drinks from the garage before it gets too late."

David shakes his head. "I brought about a dozen ciders, though."

"Maybe some Malibu?" Sarah asks. "I think I forgot some. But I have Smirnoff, Cointreau, some prosecco... You know."

Spot shakes his head and grins. "Aye, a know. I'll see yous in a bit, aight. Crutchy," he says, raising his voice. "Text me if Jack gets arrested."

"Always do," Crutchy replies from where he's lounging on the couch, the coffee table laden with crisps and sweets, whilst he watches what appears to be a documentary on evolution. "Hey Davey, Sazzy."

"Heya, Crutchy," Sarah says, slipping into the seat next to him. "What we watching?"

"Oh, it's all about the big bang, right, and how humans evolved from like, little cells in the water. You know, right?"

"Yeah, I love that shit."

Dave loves that shit, too, but he says, "I'll just go see Jack, yeah?"

"Aye, go see your _boyfriend_ , Davey."

"Yeah, _Davey_ ," Sarah adds.

David rolls his eyes and goes to Jack's room.

Jack's lying on his bed, head pillowed on his arms and eyes shut. _Dead or Alive_  is spinning, of course, and David knows Jack's awake because he's tapping his foot to the beat, and mouthing every few lyrics.

David flicks his knee.

"Wha? Davey?" Jack smiles, all soft, his eyes fluttering open like maybe he was dozing. "Hey, Davey. Came to chat?"

"Yeah." David nudges Jack's side with his knee till Jack budges up a little, and David can sit on Jack's bed, legs to the side. "You won't believe what Sarah was bothering me about on the way here."

"Oh?"

"She wanted to know how far we'd gotten."

Jack sits up a little, grinning. " _Oh_?"

" _Yeah_. She was certain we went all the way the second we got together."

"For real?" Jack says.

"Because of your, uh, history."

"My _hist'ry_? Wow, Sarah." He gropes his bedside cabinet for his phone, and David watches as he brings up Saz on text and sends _wow, saz_ :/ to her. "Tha's funny. Tha's _really_  funny. What'd you say?"

"I said we hadn't gone further than pulling. That's what we wrote down, right?"

"Aye." Jack's still half-lying back on the bed, one hand still behind his head. It's...annoyingly distracting. David turns his gaze back to Jack's phone, where Saz has replied only with three heart emojis. Jack types in five heart emojis and a line of smooches, because he lives to one-up people, before he drops his phone back on the cabinet. It's mess, like the rest of Jack's room, littered with empty Irn Bru cans and the occasional beer bottle; his phone, wallet, and keys; a few scattered paintbrushes, pencils, and pens; and - a letter?

"Jack," David says, leaning to grab it - it's all scrunched up, but he can make out the emblem of the Scottish Government. "Hey, Jack, what's this-?"

"We should practice," Jack says, ignoring David's question and instead grabbing his arm, a little forcefully.

"But Jack-"

"We've never pulled before, right? But like you said, I'm a fan of smooches. They'll think it's weird we never do it in front a them, but we gotta look natural, right?"

David blinks, and turns away from the letter. "You want us to what, practice pulling?" Jack shrugs, and David says, " _Jack_. We didn't write this in the bullet points!"

"Aye, well, we changed the way we got t'gether, didn't we?"

" _You_  did."

"Tell me I'm wrong, then. Tell me they won't notice, or it'll look normal without practising."

David opens his mouth to answer, but Jack's right - he has nothing. He looks away, instead, cheeks flushing. "We- we can't."

"Why no? 'S just a few kisses, Davey."

"I know _that_ , but-"

"It aint your first, is it? Davey, is it?"

David's eyes go wide and he looks back to Jack. "No, it isn't! Christ..."

Jack frowns for a half-second, then tugs on David's arm again. "I won't force ya, but, ya know... We want to be convincin' an' all that."

David sighs, and takes a moment to register his feelings, and shove them to the side. Jack's right, after all. David should be rational about this. "Okay," he sighs. "Okay, let's- oh-!"

Jack's arm slips round David's neck and pulls him forward as Jack sits up further. "Like this, Davey," he says, and then Jack's kissing him.

Jack's kissing him.

_Oh my god_.

David can't react - his eyes are still open when Jack pulls away, shaking his head. "See?" he says, completely unaffected. "Toldja we need practice. Thought ya said ya've pulled before."

"I have," David says, a little defensively. He can't quite think straight. Jack's rearranging their positions, a little bit - he crosses his legs, moves so he's opposite of David. "I was just...drunk, usually, okay- I don't know."

"Ya cannae give consent if you're drunk," Jack says, almost absent-mindedly, reciting what David and Saz and Kath have been trying to drill into everyone's heads.

"Yeah, thanks, Jack, I know that."

"Just pullin'?" Jack asks.

David frowns, looks at him out the corner of his eye. "Uh- I mean, no, not always... Look, does it matter?"

Jack's looking at him oddly. "No," he finally answers. "S'pose not." He places a hand firmly on David's neck, and David has to suppress a shiver. His other hand hovers over David's face, before he takes David's chin and says, "Now, like _this_."

And then they kiss again. _They_  kiss, because this time David is prepared, and has the good sense to kiss back. One hand is still balancing him on the bed, but, and carefully, he fits the other against Jack's jaw, revelling in how utterly _bizarre_  this scenario is. Everything he's ever wanted, real, in his hands, yet so utterly fake at the same time.

Jack's jaw is strong and barely grizzled, and so warm, like the sun.

His lips are a little chapped. Not too badly - Sarah and Kath, after discovering the boys didn't really use lip balm, endeavoured to make sure all of them started, if only for their partners' benefit. David knows his lips are soft, right now - Sarah bothers him the second they look dry. It's not uncomfortable, David supposes - the heat, and the fact that it's _Jack_ , more than make up for some rough lips. His palm, too, is warm on David's neck - he wonders if Jack can feel how fast is pulse is racing, if Jack can figure out _why_  David cares so much.

Jack's other hand tilts David's head a little more to the side, and Jack presses closer, presses his lips more firmly against David's, and stays like that, if only for a moment, before moving softly against him.

Then he takes a moment to breathe, and David does too, and when they come together again Jack's thumb strokes his chin and their mouths, half-open, meet again.

This kiss is better than before - Jack's lips close round David's bottom lip, and David's breath catches and he leans closer, instantly, hand falling from Jack's face to grab at his shirt.

Jack's heart is racing, too, and it makes David smile, a little. Jack's tongue brushes against his lip for a half-second, triggering another shiver, and just as Jack begins to pull away, he bites down, softly, on David's lip.

_That_  prompts a tiny, surprised moan out of David, and Jack looks proud when they part completely.

"You're a decent kisser," he says, and he actually sounds surprised.

"What?" David says. "I said already, I _have_  actually pulled before. I know what I'm doing."

Jack's got that strange look in his eye again. "Okay," he says. "Okay, whatever. Anyone can kiss like that, right? But we've been t'gether awhile, right, Davey? Aint we _passionate_  young things?"

"Christ, Jack, where are you going with this?"

"C'mere."

So David moves back to where he'd been before, closer, hand on Jack's chest like before. His heart is a little slower than before, but still fast. Jack's skin is darker than David's - half-Latino on his mother's side, the one concrete thing David knows of his mother - so he doesn't blush as easy, but there's definitely redness lurking under his skin, his entire face warmer, softer.

He is _so attractive_.

"Ready?"

David tilts his head by way of answer, leaning in before Jack's stupid face can distract him further.

Jack must be surprised - he's still, then he grins against David's lips and surges forward, causing David to grip a little more harshly at Jack's shirt. Jack kisses him like before, but more aggressively, pressing against him more intently, pushing and sucking and biting, always softly, till David parts his lips again and Jack's tongue presses inside.

David knows he's been kissed like this before - he _knows_  he has been - but maybe he wasn't sober enough, or the other guy didn't care as much, or he didn't love them as much as he loves Jack- maybe they just weren't Jack. David ends up releasing a breath that catches perhaps a little much voice, and Jack smiles again, and David smiles and sucks, just a little, on Jack's tongue, forgetting that they aren't truly together, and that Jack isn't in love with him, and that they're just practicing.

Instead, he keeps his eyes shut, his other hand coming up around Jack's neck, leaning in as close he can over their legs. Jack responds, eagerly, moving closer, holding tighter, his hand drifting from David's neck to his back, roaming to his hip and gripping tight.

Jack's tongue does a whole range of things David wasn't aware was possible inside his mouth, and maybe David lets out a few undignified noises, and he'd quite happily go on this way forever until, of all people, his _sister_  is saying, "Excuse me? Can you two quit it for, like, _two_  seconds?"

David tears away from Jack, so quickly that he'd have fallen off the bed is Jack wasn't holding him so tightly.

David's cheeks are on _fire_. He's suddenly extremely aware of the drool on his chin, the way his hands are clutching Jack's shirt and neck.

He lets go and dusts himself down before replying, "Um, yes, uh, sorry, Saz, uh- couldn't you've knocked?"

Sarah looks distasteful. "Trust me, Davey, I did - now, Jack, if you check your _phone_ , you'll realise Spot has been texting you about something  _urgent_  apparently and needs your instant response. Please answer so he stops texting me. The documentary is getting to a really good part!"

Jack nods, and David keeps his eyes on the ground, only offering up a tiny wave as Sarah turns to leave. Once she's gone, David collapses against Jack's bed with a, "How _embarrassing_!"

Jack reaches over him for his phone. "Ah, shit. We missed ten minutes there, Davey." He taps his screen a few times before saying, "Yo, Spot? Saz says you're askin' for me... Aye. Aye I said- well, I've put it down before. Why's it a problem now?" He heaves a sigh and flops back next to Davey. "Oh aye, because o' the other day. That was a _one-off_ , Spot... Well, ya always need back-up! C'mon. Please? I'm stickin' only to beer tonight, promise." David can hear Spot speaking, loudly but indistinctly, from Jack's phone. " _Promise_ , Spot. Aye. There's a good lad. Naw, I've just been hangin' with Davey... Saz texted ya so fast? A snap- fucking-! Davey, check snapchat for me, will ya? _Ugh_ , what a cheeky lass she is. Aye, I'll see ya in a few. Bye, Spot." He hangs up, then looks to David, who's just gotten onto snapchat. "Well? Aw, she _didnae_ -"

But she did, apparently, take a five-second video of him and Jack kissing, captioning it with _when ur bro and his bf r being gross_ </3 with a few disgusted emojis dotted around. David's cheeks are flushed, and Jack's smiling, and it looks, it _really looks_ real.

"Right, well, this has been great, Davey, but your sister needs a talkin-to-"

But Spot's brief conversation with Jack has sparked something in David's memory. "Wait," he says. "We were going to talk about your problem." He pauses. "Your...drinking problem?"

Jack settles back down and shakes his head. "Don't say that, Davey."

"Why? Because it's true?"

"Did I _say_  that?"

Whatever happiness that had settled on David during their brief kissing session has already diminished; reality reasserts its dominance in his life in the form of anger and fear and worry sliding down his back like droplets of freezing water.

"You haven't _said_  anything about the entire thing! You said, 'bad news' and 'we all got problems' like that's any kind of explanation? You said you weren't _allowed_  to tell me anything? What does that- Jack, what does that even mean?"

"Exactly what it _sounds_  like, Davey - am _no allowed_  to tell ya anythin'. I got bad news about this thing I cannae tell ya anythin' about, and so, aye, I drank instead a dealing with it. Is 'at an issue?"

"It- it is if that becomes your _solution_. You told me yourself not to let you around anyone if you got very drunk - that _means_  you know there's an issue! What- have you...done anything drunk you wouldn't have done sober or something?"

"Haven't we all?"

"Something _bad_ , Jack."

Jack gets a very far off look in his eyes. "Naw. But- I know I hafta be careful about that sorta thing. An'...I am sorry for comin' over like that. 'Specially when you were...still not dain great. It was pretty shitty of me."

David frowns. "No, don't worry. It helped just to...have you there. It just worried me."

"Aye, well...as much as I'd love for ya to hear all my many woes, I cannae tell ya anything." Jack shrugs, as much as he can lying down. "You can still, uh...tell me what's up though, yeah?"

"...Yeah." David _can_ , though whether or not he will is up for debate. He still hasn't quite recovered from practising kissing with Jack - _Jack_  - let alone hopping to the opposite of the spectrum by _arguing_  with him. And now they're lying side-by-side, and Jack's voice has gone soft, and, of course, _Dead or Alive_  is still looping in the background.

David had been right, before. Of course he'll bare his heart to Jack, even if he gets nothing in return. Of course he will.

"I'm scared," he says, because again, it's true. "I'm scared that there's...too much you and not enough of me. That... That there isn't a _me_  without _you_."

Jack turns on his side so he can look at David properly. "What d'ya mean?" he asks.

Which is a fair question, but David's not so sure of the answer himself. "Just... I freaked out after Ann's. I couldn't stop thinking about you and I and... And, I mean, these people aren't really _my_  friends, they're all _yours_  - before you appeared, they wouldn't even give me the time of day. And I know Les thinks you're way cooler than me. And, I don't know, I mean...everyone seems to think we come as a _pair_  - all our friends thought we were together, and my family stopped giving a shit about you turning up whenever you wanted, even our old teachers acted shocked when they saw one of us without the other...and it just made me think...you just have so much more _presence_  than me. And that's what people really care about, you know?"

"That what ya think?" Jack asks. "Tell 'at to the looks our careers teacher gave me when I said I wanted to study business."

David takes a breath, shaking his head. "No, Jack, no, I didn't mean like _that_ -"

"You're _smart_ , Davey. You've got the world at your feet."

"Maybe, but it feels so- it feels- it doesn't feel like it. People want- personality, ingenuity, initiative, I just... People don't _see_  that when they see me, that's why they love _you_... I just...wonder if there's anything more to me than grades, and...intelligence, or whatever."

"Well," Jack says, grinning, "you're a no bad kisser."

David goes pink and rolls his eyes. "Wow, thanks."

"An' you've got a lovely face. If this whole journalism thing doesnae work out, maybe modelin', aye?"

" _Jack_."

"You're always gonnae be my favourite model."

"Mm. That true."

"Oh aye. An' you've got a way with words, Davey. You can make anyone dae anythin'. An' clever, but we all know that. Make the best plans. Always know what course o' action to take and what-not."

David grins, turning his head to look Jack in the eye. "Okay," he says. "I get it. I'm great, and good-looking, and probably the best kisser you know. Thanks, Jack."

Jack winks. "Anytime, _baby_."

"Mm, you're not drunk anymore. No excuses."

"It's cute."

"It's infantalising. And condescending."

"The ladies like it."

"Ladies have been socialised to aspire to being smaller and more delicate than their male counterparts."

Jack raises his brows. "Fine, then. What's an acceptable nickname, for you?"

"I have two, actually: Davey, and Dave. Which one do you prefer?"

"Very funny. Shall I call you honey? Hen? Sweet-pea, sweety-pie, angel cake?"

"No, no, and _no_ , thanks."

Jack laughs, and above it David can hear someone knocking at the front door. "You expecting some more people?"

"Prob'ly a couple guys pregaming here. Wanna go see 'em?"

David shrugs one shoulder. "I don't mind hanging out here for a while."

Jack twists onto his stomach with enthusiasm. "Alright!" he says. "Naptime with Davey, _nice_. Settle down, Davey, if we're lucky we can fit in two hours before it really gets goan."

"Yeah, alright," David says, turning on his side and bringing up his knees as much as he can without disturbing Jack. "Night, Jack."

"Night Davey. Sweet dreams for, uh, two hours."

"You too."

David's not entirely sure how he manages to fall asleep so fast - the two nights without sleep? All the roller-coaster emotions and experiences he's endured today? Or perhaps simply just lying here in Jack's bed, with Jack next to him, listening to Jack breathing slowly, audible above the still-playing record of Jack's favourite song.

David resists moving closer, and falls asleep in ten minutes flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession time? here's what i got: i've never kissed anyone so YES i did a lil research for that one scene.... so if it was like extra or like dull or too technical....i mean just hmu and let me kno bc lords knos i don't.
> 
> anyway thoughts?? too much??? weird pacing??? weird characterisation? let me know pals. hope u have a lovely day <3
> 
> ((oh, and that whole kath/communist manifesto thing?? totally tru. happened to my friend in paris, if u can fucking believe it. i mean. wtf)) ((oh also the half-latino thing is defs a s/o to the new toursies cast!!! super exciting!! also idk if i said this but this crutchy is defs demarius' just aged down a lil))

**Author's Note:**

> yikes! tell me what u think? also i'm @ tyrellis on tumblr getting sad abt newsies but also other musicals and tv shows etc <3
> 
> (also...i am so sorry but who knos when this'll be updated. i'm moving to uni in three days.. super yikes!)


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